The Boys of Dalton
by PB Anderson
Summary: The second generation of Dalton boys after Blaine, Kurt and their friends. Based off of CP Coulter's beautiful story Dalton. The story will make more sense if you have read it, although you should be able to understand it otherwise. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or Dalton. _

_So, this is loosely based of Glee. It takes place at Dalton Academy and uses the Warblers from Glee. Blaine, Kurt, Wes and David are all parents in it. Other than that, it is in the wonderful world of Dalton by CP Coulter. So many things (such as the houses and my OC's parents) come from her story. If you haven't read it, I really think you should because it is amazing. _

_Reviews are loved, but mostly I just hope you like reading it!_

_Otherwise, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

Dalton Academy was in the process of changing from crisp autumn to frosty winter. The grass was still emerald and shining from beneath the bright, multihued mass of foliage. The leaves shifted across campus as a chilling wind blew in, causing the boys to wrap themselves up tighter in their jackets and coats. They shivered slightly under their navy blazers, huddling in groups as they ran from one dorm to the South and Main, and then back again. The three imposing dorms and South and Main were virtually unchanged since the previous generation. Some ivy had been trying to grow up the walls, but the meticulous groundskeeper was fighting it off and praying that winter would kill the vicious plant. Stuart still ran off of various forms of caffeine as its boys fought to make the highest grades. Hanover did its best to stay out of the ongoing feud between the other two houses while keeping it's crazy under wraps and out of the view of the other two dorms. Windsor continued its abnormally high levels of insane and destruction of property. The administration kept hoping they would change, but as of late they had lost all hope. Dean Ramsey had enjoyed the brief nineteen-year break between the last plethora of incorrigible boys. However, those boys had had kids and their sons were now occupying the Dalton dorms. Needless to say, the past couple years with them had been interesting in their own forms as the boys continued to surprise her. This year would be no exception, and Dean Ramsey and the boys of Stuart, Hanover and Windsor had no idea what was coming at them. For now, their minds are occupied by other worries.

* * *

Winston Anderson took a few small steps away from the bathroom door, which slowly slid shut on its own accord. One of his hands was curled around the second to last button of his blazer, while the other hand was clenched in a fist and shoved deep into the pocket of his gray slacks. His thin shoulders were curled inwards as he took a couple deep breaths and tried not to move too much. His tie was slightly off center, the ruby stripes now appearing horizontal rather than candy-cane style. His hair was falling in front of his eyes and the chocolate curls were obscuring his vision. He was trying to ignore his stomach as it threatened to force his lunch out of his body. A second later a hand was pressed against Winston's back and the lead singer looked up with a glance of confusion, before settling into a tight smile.

Beckett stood a head above Winston's twisted hair, and his dark eyes were carefully watching the sick teenager. "Winston…" Winston shook his head and straightened his spine in an attempt to look less like an invalid. Beckett dropped his hand from Winston's back and stuck it in his pocket as Winston began to walk forward again. The younger boy's shoes dragged across the glossy floor. "What's wrong?" Beckett asked, carefully taking in Winston's appearance.

Winston took another deep breath before setting his award-winning smile in place. All teeth and a bright face, the grin even reached his gold eyes. However, Beckett was one of the few people able to see through Winston's perfect acting. "What do you mean?" He was standing up straight, grin not faltering for a second as he relaxed his muscles. Passing boys grinned back and Winston nodded his head at them until Beckett snapped his fingers right in Winston's face. This gained his attention and caused Winston to tighten the hand curled over his stomach. Beckett raised an eyebrow and Winston wrinkled his nose in response as he recognized that Beckett saw his one mistake.

"You just had the appearance of a dying warbler a few second ago." Beckett's blunt, and probably accurate, metaphor hit home and Winston sighed. "Are you feeling nauseous again?" Beckett's voice was soft, drifting just between the two of them. Winston relaxed, knowing only Beckett would be able to hear his response. His shoulders curved again, causing his blazer to pull tight over his shoulder blades. As Winston opened his mouth to answer his roommate, the rest of the Warblers walked into the hall.

The clear voices filled the air as the Warblers all hummed and talked, and they easily responded to each other's tones. Winston closed his mouth and smiled hesitantly at Beckett, who sighed but smiled back. The subject was dropped as they joined the throng of adolescent males. The two stuck together while interacting with the rest of the boys. They mostly stuck to the Windsor crowd however a couple Hanovers joined the conversations. Once, Beckett saw Winston close his eyes and take a deep breath, trying to not double over and become immobile. Miss Marinelli's voice floated into the hall, calling the boys into the room. Winston eyelashes rested on his cheeks as the boy took one last deep breath before pushing the door open into the Warbler's room and flashing a blinding smirk at the Warblers's teacher as they filed in after him.

A moment later the Warblers was standing in their sections as Miss Marinelli played a few well-known warm ups. A few minutes later and they were half way through their first run through of the opening act for Winter Fest. Winston was standing in the middle, dancing and singing loudly as his voice filled the hallway. His expressive face and widely enthusiastic attitude never gave the others any indication that he was in pain. The Warbler's cheered after every successful run through and Winston let them make fun of his spins, laughing along with them all. Beckett knew he was in pain, but even he didn't see Winston double over or stop moving until the end of the last run through.

By the end of rehearsal, the Warblers were all sitting down awaiting announcements and notes. They were leaning against each other, some looking about ready to fall asleep, while others looked like they had just woken up for the first time all day. Miss Marinellli smiled, blond hair covering her shoulders as she sat on the piano bench. Her purple heels rested against the pedals and her fingers softly ran over the keys of the beautiful Grand Piano. Winston looked exhausted, and although he was sitting up properly his shoulders were curved in and his eyes downcast. Miss Marinelli twinged inside, wishing she could help her lead, but knowing it wasn't her place to ask. Beckett had his arm around the back of Winston's chair and was handing over Winston's water bottle, trying to get the boy to drink some thing. Winston shook his head, a small movement that Miss. Marinelli could barely see from her hidden position. If it weren't for his spiraling hair moving she was sure she wouldn't have caught it. She stood up, walking calmly in front of the piano and leaning back on it. As Beckett unscrewed the cap and handed it to Winston, whispering something, the younger boy grasped the bottle and took a large swig. "Very good job boys. Our song for sectionals this weekend was beautiful. Rehearsal on Thursday, but you can have Friday off if you promise to get sleep and drink lots of water." There were nods from around the room as Beckett grinned widely at Winston. Winston ignored his friend, but took another sip of the water, his eyes carefully trained on the Warbler's teacher. Beckett seemed happy with this progress and turned his full attention to Miss Marinelli as well and she smiled. "Winter Fest is a couple weeks after that, and the opening act is perfect, so I don't think we have to worry about that one anymore." There was a round of clapping that Mike and Mitch Brightman began and that went on for a second before Miss Marinelli gathered their attention. The two blond cousins had a habit of distracting the group, and at this point Miss Marinelli was used to their disruptions occurring at least twice a rehearsal, if not more often than that. On the other hand, she was sure that she would be able to handle any sort of disruption after teaching them. "However, we still have to rehearse it in the Orion Ballroom, and we will still have to rehearse it often enough to make sure it stays this good. The second number is decent enough, and we should make sure that the dance team gets to start practicing with us too. Yet I want that middle bit to be amazing boys, and right now a few of you are not on the exact same beat as everyone else. Fix it." The boys nodded and Winston, Peter, and Tristan offered their rooms up for practice for those who needed or didn't mind helping. "Those of you who are representing your houses, I want to hear your songs soon. I need to make sure they are appropriate and that we have a good idea of where the lights should be." Winston, Pierce and Joey nodded as she pointed to each of them. "Lastly, the closing number sounds great. I cannot wait for the audience to hear that, your parents will be so proud. I am already very proud of you boys, so just keep up the work over the next couple weeks!" After that closing announcement, and a round of clapping, the Warbler's stood and began to leave the formal room.

* * *

Brevyn walked up the steps of Windsor and slipping inside the door, checking that his dance bag didn't get stuck in the door. When he turned around he was hit square in the forehead with a fluffy marshmallow. Brevyn picked the mallow off his pale forehead before observing it and then looking up at the Brightmans. Mike and Mitch grinned from the wooden balcony rail before bowing to Brevyn Anderson and running away to the sound of wild laughter. Brevyn dropped the marshmallow and unzipped his dance bag, pulling out a heavy duty Nerf Gun. He zipped his bag and slung it across his shoulder, ignoring the possibility of wrinkles forming on his jacket, before sprinting up the stairs. When he reached the top, he found Windsor in a state of chaos that was only slightly worse than normal. All the boys were camped out in different areas, a full-blown Nerf/marshmallow war under way. A few of the fresheman, who were not as familiar with the wars as the older boys, were getting pelted and killed by Roger and Alan. Brevyn stood in the open area for a second before spinning behind a chair and curling up. He cocked the Nerf Gun and glanced around him. His gaze connected with Cian Anderson, and the two cousins grinned before leaning around their chairs and opening fire on Alan and Roger. Alan ducked away behind a couch as Roger launched the eatable artillery at them. A second later Brevyn felt a hand on his back and someone's weight push against him. He turned, pointing the gun at the intruder before recognizing Winston. The older brother grinned, cocking his own gun and glancing around Brevyn. "Brightmans?"

"Left hall." Brevyn answered quickly as he pulled his dance strap over his shoulders and shoved it under a chair. Winston covered for the two of them, shooting at Roger who was out in the open again. Alan's hand shot out and grabbed Roger's shirt, pulling the teen down behind the leather couch. Brevyn grinned, pulling his gun up and glancing around. His gray eyes were bright with excitement.

"Okay, Beckett is briefing Cian. Can we leave you two here to handle this hall and we can go find Mike and Mitch?" Brevyn nodded. "Then good luck and see you in a hour or so!" Winston jumped out from behind the chair and a second later Beckett's tall form was running after Winston's shorter one. The two rolled into the next hall and Brevyn lost sight of them.

"Ready?" He heard Cian's voice float through the hall. Brevyn glanced around him, eyes finding the reflective surface of a glass vase just behind Alan and Roger's couch. Brevyn used the reflected image to monitor the other two Sophomores.

Alan was crouched low, trying to peer under the couch. Roger was sitting there, glancing around them before peering up over the couch. "Alan is low, Roger is just looking around. Alan shouldn't have left him on guard." Cian nodded before slipping out from behind his chair. He rolled across the floor, avoiding the rugs and expensive furniture that lined the halls of Windsor. One would think that the administration would not place luxurious fixtures in Windsor due to the destruction of property that was a bi-weekly occurrence in this house.

Roger was cowering as Cian hit him square in the forehead. "I give up!" He threw his hands up as Alan sprinted into another corner to hide.

"Coward!" Alan shot and Roger shrugged, letting Cian help pull him to his feet. "I'm off to go get Alan. Go down to the common room." Roger nodded and sprinted off to avoid more bullets. There was already a red dot on his forehead. Brevyn stood and followed Cian as they began their pursuit of Alan Houstan.

* * *

Eventually, the chaos stopped as Eric brought the fight to a close. The two-hour battle had included nearly every Windsor and the house had suffered a few damages to property as a result. "Really? That portrait? You two had to hit that one?" Eric demanded of Mike and Mitch as they observed the marshmallows sticking to Dalton's founder's face.

"I think it is an improvement." Mitch mused as Mike nodded. Their uniforms were still on, but the blazers had been lost in the battle and were yet to be uncovered. They had their sleeves rolled up to their elbows, exposing their pallid forearms.

Eric's brunette hair was sticking in several different directions as he ran his hands through it. His tie and blazer had been abandoned when he began homework, but after a half hour he had joined in the war. Now, the top two buttons of his shirt had come undone in the fray and his shirt was wrinkled.

"Fix it." He explained and Mike and Mitch sighed but listened to Windsor's 'Prefect Percy'.

"You really need a girl to keep you from being this tense." Mike informed Eric, who glared at the two before slipping away to inspect the rest of the house.

Brevyn was picking bullets and marshmallows out of the couch, while Cian, Roger and Alan were each working on an armchair. "By the way," Brevyn put a handful of mallows into the paper bag serving as a disposal system. "Good shot as I walked in the door."

Mike and Mitch grinned. "We thought so too Ron." The twin's fixation on Harry Potter invaded everyone else's lives. Nearly all the boys in Windsor, and many of the other students, had learned to respond to their 'wizard' names.

Beckett walked down the stairs, each foot soft on the staircase. The quietest of all Windsor residents, Beckett was usually collected unless it was nearing finals. For this reason the Brightmans had dubbed him Hermione. Currently, Beckett's phone was pressed to his ear, his voice even softer than normal as he walked through the commotion of the common room and out into the cool night air. "Hey Phoebe, how are you doing?" He asked, shoving his hand into his pocket. There was a loose string in there, and as Beckett played with it he started to open a hole in the inside of the pocket. As soon as he realized what he was doing he slowed his fingers and reminded himself to talk to Brevyn about fixing it.

"I'm good." The voice held only a slight southern accent that Beckett was always drawn to. "How is Windsor holding up?"

Beckett laughed as he sat down on the steps and leaned back. The rough stones that made up the stairs into Windsor hurt Beckett's elbows as he placed his weight on them. However, the pain receded after a moment and Beckett's only discomfort was the chilly air that found it's way into his blazer. He reminded himself that he needed a jacket when going outside, the weather just didn't permit warm enough nights. "Just had a Nerf Battle. Now Eric is running damage control while we all pick up before Howard comes out to inspect." Phoebe was laughing by that point, her clear voice winding it's way through the phone.

"You boys are crazy you know that?" Beckett grinned.

"I know. But your casts aren't any better." There was some muttered grumbles from the other side and Beckett couldn't help but picture her staring downwards, blue eyes rolling as she ignored how correct he was.

"But we are all theater kids who's days start at noon and end at eleven once the show is over, we have met the audience, gone home and cleaned up. We are supposed to be crazy."

"How is Phantom going?"

"Excellent. We should be on Broadway till May at least."

* * *

After cleaning the common room Alan, Roger, Cian and Brevyn were all sitting on the couch staring around them. Roger was using hand sanitizer to make sure the gooey residue from the marshmallows was gone, while Brevyn untangled a dart from his cousin's hair. Cian sat patiently, occasionally wincing when Brevyn thought the Velcro was free, only to find it was snagged on a different curl. Alan was sitting normally as his eyes scanned the room for any forgotten objects. "Well that was fun." Alan's voice was dripping with sarcasm and Roger rolled his eyes while putting the sanitizer into Brevyn's dance bag. It landed on a worn cotton shirt, and a pair of well-used dance shoes that were peeking out of the top.

"It wasn't that bad." Alan glared intensely at his roommate, who's eyes widened at the frustration radiating from the other teen. "What, did you run into salt or something?" asked Roger.

"Not this again." Cian mumbled before letting his head fall forwards onto his hand, fair locks getting crushed between his forehead and palm as Brevyn yanked the dart out, holding it carefully between his delicate fingers. He grinned and showed it to Cian, who smiled back before taking the offending object and throwing the bullet onto the large pile in the middle of the coffee table.

"I keep telling you, it is no funny thing. I can't stand salt! Rock salt is everywhere, it is pesky, and it has no benefits!" Dwight's son sucked in a deep breath, ready to continue on his rant but was interrupted by Roger polite voice.

"Not even on eggs?"

"No." Alan answered, ignoring the three sets of giggles that came from next to him.

* * *

By Wednesday, all the boys were just begging and praying for Friday to come. They were all convinced that it was never going to come and they would be stuck in the swamps of homework that were quickly turning into a raging storm. Dalton had great academics that helped nearly every one of its boys get into the Ivy Leagues. If the boy wasn't there, he was at an international school studying abroad. As excellent as that was for later in life, it made it hell during High School.

Winston's head drop forward and land on his Earth Science textbook. "Why can't I just run away and go join Broadway now?" He moaned as Beckett's fingers continued to click away on the computer from a couple feet away.

"Because you would be all alone and you would miss us." Beckett responded, his voice quiet to avoid the detection of the Librarian, Miss O.

"Who wants to come with me?" Winston asked, his voice carrying after years of training for the stage. Mike and Mitch raised their hands as they sucked down coffee, their eyes tearing through page and pages of math notes. Cian mumbled his agreement, slowly dragging his pen along sheets that made up his history homework. Brevyn also acquiesced, although he was the only one beside Beckett who looked at all alive. His hair was still immaculate, and his uniform perfect. The lapel pin was straight as could be, and his fingers didn't have a smudge of ink on them. The paper in front of him was completely legible in a flowing script that would rival most calligraphers. From behind a massive stack of books Roger muttered a "please, please can we go now?" as he shoved a psychology book away from him. "I don't even know what they are telling me anymore. Something about Oedipus syndromes and those are quite frankly just disturbing."

"See, I have plenty of support." Beckett laughed quietly, as Winston's eyes begged him to let them leave now. Beckett's fingers pausing as he reread his paragraph. "Finish your geography assignment."

Winston moaned and picked his head up and scooted his chair in. Miss O stuck her head around the corner and Winston beamed at her. "Sorry Miss O." He whispered, and Alan smiled at her. The librarian rolled her eyes, always having a soft spot for the boys, especially Alan due to his time and volunteer work in the library. The boys all glanced at each other and wide grins spread across their faces. Brevyn giggled quietly before muffling the sound in his elbow.

"We are so going to get kicked out of here someday." Roger said, slashing through a section of his psychology essay.

Alan snorted and rolled his eyes. "Please don't let me be here on that day."

"She loves you, you are safe." Beckett answered, clicking the save button on his document. The screen flashed at him and Beckett smiled, typing a reply to Phoebe.

"Yeah… well… if I'm ever kicked out, I blame all of you."

Winston nodded, hair flopping into his face as he pulled his Earth Science book closer and began to search for the correct map. There was a rustling of pages as each boy continued to muddle through his homework. Occasionally, one of the boys got confused by a question and had to ask for help. At that point, whoever was best at each subject would stop and lend a hand in solving the issue. In that way, the boys finally packed up their stuff and left by ten thirty. However, once they were back in Windsor Beckett announced that he would kill everyone if they didn't let him finish his essay. Mike and Mitch decided Hermione was not joking, and helped to enforce his wish.

* * *

Winston surrendered the homework. The rough edges slipped through his fingers, falling onto Mr. Walker's desk along with many other papers just like it as the student's filed through the door. "Friday afternoon." Said Beckett, who was already fiddling with his tie, waiting to lose it in favor of more comfortable clothes. Winston had to agree that the uniform was uncomfortable, no matter how long you wore it. The crisp slacks, shirts, blazers, and tie made it impossible to relax comfortably.

Soon, Mike and Mitch Brightman were on Winston's other side. The tall blond cousins were walking with an extra skip in their already energy filled steps as the Warblers all encouraged each other to get pumped up for sectionals.

"Ready?" The Brightmans asked Winston, as the short Junior continued to navigate his way through the halls, avoiding an army of elbows and jostling bodies.

"We have been rehearsing for over a month." Winston replied, finally reaching the door of the South and Main and heading out across the campus. "If I'm not ready now, I'll never be." The wind was chilly during the day now too, causing the boys to brace themselves for the onslaught of winter. Dalton was always covered with a couple feet of snow during the winter. Just enough snow for the boys to cause havoc in, and irritate the exhausted administrations office. However, they were enjoying the last chance to walk outside without warm wool coats and scarves. Winston pulled his blazer tighter around him in an attempt to retain some warmth, while grinning as the wind swept over his hair and tugged the curls free. "Winter is not far off… any plans to try to build another snowboarding ramp occurring yet?"

Mike and Mitch grinned, their faces splitting into expressions that would have worried any teacher beyond belief. "Oh yes Harry." They answered. "We always have plans." This caused the conversation to jump to the current ideas for the ramp.

* * *

As discussions and plans for this years attempt to build a snowboarding ramp were beginning, Brevyn was sitting in the common room, watching the boys who were milling around. There was a group of Warblers harmonizing off on the side. The fact that they were here rather than Winston's room meant that the singer was not in the dorm. A few of the athletes were talking about the latest game. One of them said something that causes the others to grin and cheer.

Then the door to Windsor opened and Brevyn glanced over at it. He smiled when he recognized Winston, Beckett and the Brightmans. They were discussing something interesting if Mike and Mitch's flurry of hand motions were any indication. Just then Beckett interjected with a grin and all of them laughed. The Warblers in the corner noticed Winston and waved.

"Hey!" One of the boys stepped forwards and smiled at Winston.

Winston grinned back, as he straightened his blazer. "Yes?"

"Would you mind helping us with the fifth measure onwards for sectionals?" Winston shook his head and glanced at the three teens behind him. Beckett shrugged before waving a hand and walking up the stairs. The Warblers quickly followed, rushing up the stairs to Winston's room. Brevyn rolled his eyes as they disappeared around the corner. He had no idea how Winston handled that many people going into and out of his room at a time. Brevyn was easily distracted by music as it made him want to dance and spin around. Winston worked best with music playing, and if there was a lack of Warblers singing then Brevyn's older brother would play music and sing along just to avoid silence.

Cian plopped down next to Brevyn and smiled charmingly. "Hello."

"Hello, how are you?" Brevyn asked as he settled back against the blue and yellow pillows.

Cian sighed, blowing a few of his curls from his face. "Alright I suppose. Glad it's the weekend." Brevyn nodded in agreement. "Although with sectionals coming up… how is Winston doing?"

Brevyn glanced sideways at Cian. "I'm sure he is doing fine as far as being prepared for the performance. He has sung in front of so many audiences at this point."

Cian nodded his head in agreement, well aware of his cousin's talent. "You and your brother… together you have a monopoly on the performing arts at this school."

Brevyn laughed, his voice echoing around the large hall. "And you helping run tech…"

"We Andersons are slowly beginning our world domination?" Cian asked and Brevyn snickered, nodding his head wildly and then high fiving Cian. "Watch out world, soon enough they will have to deal with us."

"And our dads." Brevyn reminded Cian who hit his forehead with his palm.

"How could I have forgotten? So they will have to deal with seven of us in the performing arts."

"Oh dear." Brevyn answered with a grin. "Surely that won't end well."

Cian shook his head but smiled. "Still a few years away, we are safe until then at least."

Winston ushered the last Warbler from his room before politely closing the door and leaning against it. Beckett laughed as Winston made a face. "Its your fault for being lead and for letting them come by."

Winston pushed off of the door, grabbing his bag and taking a few steps towards his bed. "I know, I know… but it doesn't bother me most of the time. And they only needed a little work for sectionals." Beckett shrugged, flipping through his textbook. "You are just frustrated that it interrupted your studying."

"Yes."

Winston rolled his eyes at the sharp answer. He sat on his bed, leaning back against the mass of pillows and crossing his legs. Beckett had slipped out of his blazer, shirt and tie in favor of a comfortable gray sweater. Winston shed his own blazer and began to loosen his tie. He threw both onto the end of his bed before tugging his bag closer and pulling some homework out. Winston took his homework, spreading the pages out in an arc around him. He then pulled the one he wanted closer, tugging a pencil out of his bag and starting in on the work. "How is Phoebe?"

"Doing good. Phantom will be up into May." Beckett smiled. It was a small smile where the edges of his lips just barely quirked up. However, there was only one person that this smile belonged to, and only one person who could make him smile like that. "Phoebe is good." He summarized, trying to go back to reading though he was now sufficiently distracted.

Winston grinned at his friend's happiness. "That's good. Is she coming to visit anytime soon?"

Beckett shook his head. "Maybe. Currently she is busy. However, she might get a couple weekends off where she could come visit."

Winston nodded. "I hope she comes soon… it's been a while since you two got to see each other." Beckett sighed quietly.

"I know."

* * *

Windsor was slowly quieting down for the evening. Mike and Mitch were slipping into bed as they uttered their goodnights. There was some rustling of the sheets as they tossed and turned, getting comfortable in their beds. Alan placed his toothbrush away while Roger snuggled under his blankets. The realist then turned the lights off and got into his own bed. Cian and Brevyn were talking and laughing, both of them huddled in overly large sweaters. Soon enough they realized the time hurriedly brushed their teeth, washed their faces, and jumped into bed. Eric shut his laptop, dropping his face into hands before setting the electronic down. He leaned back against the pillows and closed his eyes. Winston and Beckett said their goodnights and turned the lights out. They both lay there for a while, thoughts running through their heads as they worried about the rest of the year. But by midnight all of Windsor was asleep.

Except for one boy.

He got up and slipped downstairs to the kitchen. He didn't need to turn the lights on in order to find the drawer he wanted. The handle was cold and smooth against his fingers as he gently tugged it open.

He pulled a knife out and slid the blade across his wrist, his breath barely hitching as his wrist stung. The cut wasn't deep enough to cause much bleeding. A few beads of crimson blood hung onto the cut, pooling at the edges of the cut. However, the pain helped, if only a little. He washed the blade off, the water running softly over his fingers. He cleaned the blade off and then dropped it into the dishwasher. He carefully found the paper towels and pressed one against his arm, causing the blood flow to lessen. He removed the paper towel and folded it so no blood would be visible. He threw the towel into the trash and a few moments later he was back in bed and drifting off to sleep.

* * *

_Thank you._


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. I do not own Dalton. I also do not own any of the characters affiliated with either one. _

_Thank you for reading this far and I hope you are enjoying it. For those of you who have read Dalton, you get to meet Logan's son and Derek's son. Enjoy! And reviews (including productive critique) are loved but don't have to if you don't want to. _

* * *

John Logan Wright III was listening to his iPod on shuffle. The songs were being played aloud over expensive black speakers that were hidden on the bottom shelf of several large bookcases. As he tapped his thin fingers softly against his knee, there was a loud knock on the door. Joey winced and then cast a glare at the entry way. "Come in." He answered, his voice harsh but Damien was used to the singer's irritated personality. He wandered in, swinging the large wooden door shut behind him as he cheerfully grinned at the ruffled blond on the couch.

"Good morning." Joey rolled his ice-blue eyes, which was a better response than the athlete received on many mornings. Damien had had so many objects thrown at him he had lost count. Once, he had a violet bruise on his forehead for a week because of a shoe that Joey threw at him in an un-medicated moment of anger. "Well you are in a lovely mood."

"Shhhh..." Joey answered, still keeping beat on his knee. His fingers hovering lightly, just barely grazing the designer jeans that Joey loved to wear. Damien took in Joey's prone position. He was lying on the couch, one knee up so that his fingers couch reach it, while the rest of his was draped across the expensive couch. Joey himself looked like he jumped out of a catalogue for J. Crew, complete with the nonchalant expression. Damien dropped a cranberry muffin and cup of coffee on the table in front of Joey. Joey eyed the muffin but shifted in order to pick up the coffee. "How are you today?"

Damien turned and sat down on an armchair, ignoring one of Joey's infamous mood swings. "Good. Waiting for all hell to break loose as you Warblers prepare for Sectionals. However, seeing as it is tomorrow, I should probably be more worried about the freak out for Winter Fest." Joey nodded in agreement, taking a large sip of the black coffee. It was bitter, but Joey despised any crème or sugar being added. Damien never understood his friend's odd habits, and had no desire to. "Any idea if you guys are going to win or not?"

Joey laughed darkly as he relaxed back against the couch, still clutching the warm white cup. "With Winston as lead? We will be fine."

Damien raised an eyebrow. "Did you duel him for this lead?" Joey glared at Damien before standing and turning to head towards his keyboard. Damien laughed. "You know he has a killer voice. I mean, look at his Dads! They are two of the biggest names in theater and music… Your dad is good, but he went into business so…" Joey rolled his eyes.

"Thank you for that. It made me feel so much better Damien." Damien shrugged as he shifted in the chair. He threw his legs over the armrest, leaning against the other one so that he was lounging sideways in the plush chair.

Joey sat down at the keyboard and slid his fingers over the sleek keys. The keyboard was the only object in Joey's lavish room that had not suffered abuse. Everything else had scratches or dents in it. The large king-sized bed had a long graze running just along its length from a time when Joey threw his phone at it. The closet door had many scuffs along the bottom from Joey kicking the frame in moments of anger. His desk had so many scratches that nobody knew where they all came from. His laptop had been replaced three times this year alone. Other objects had their own stories of torture and abuse, while the rest of Dalton had even more to tell. However, the beautiful keyboard had never been harmed because Joey loved it too much. He would never be able to harm a piano, or keyboard, as he loved playing and singing too much.

Now, his long fingers calmly slid over the keys as they found their familiar home around middle C.

"Do you know what you are singing for Winter Fest?" Joey glanced up at Damien, who was pulling his math homework from his bag. The pages ruffled as Damien flipped through them and pulled the textbook closer, his pencil poised above the blank page.

"Hmmm… no, not yet." Joey slowly began play around on the ivory keys, his fingers dancing to tunes he had long ago memorized. "How is math going?"

Damien scribbled an answer onto his paper, boxing it in as he began to read the next. "Good, now shut up so I can focus."

Joey smiled, gladly doing as he was told. He focused on the music as the melody grew more complicated, the notes weaving around each other as his fingers climbed on top of one another in order to reach the correct keys.

* * *

Brevyn was in his room, stretching in the open space and relishing in the feeling of pushing his body just a little further each time. Then, once he felt that stretching would due more harm than help, he gracefully stood and began to spin with spotting. His favorite object to look at was a blue-framed corkboard that Winston had given him his first year at Dalton. The two brothers each had one that they filled with pictures dedicated to important events in their lives.

One picture on Brevyn's was of he and Winston on Brevyn's first day at older brother had been jumping with excitement at being back. He kept pointing to everything as he waved to the returning students. His curls were loose and flying everywhere because of the wind, and Brevyn remembered seeing the bright expressions on his face. Winston's arm was slung around Brevyn, a protective wing that Brevyn still felt he was under at moments. Now, that protective wing shielded him from some much-needed information more often than it helped him, but earlier in life it had been a reassurance. Surely it couldn't be that bad at this school if Winston loved it so much. However, Brevyn still appeared terrified. He was pale and his gray eyes were wide as he stared at Windsor's daunting brick walls. His hand was also holding onto someone else's hand. Blaine was on Brevyn's other side, keeping a tight grip on his son's hand as he whispered encouraging words in his ear at any spare moment. They ranged from simply reassuring him that it would be fine, to telling his own tales of being a Windsor, Warbler, and Dalton Academy student. The funny stories made Brevyn relax a little, but he was still nervous. However, when Blaine mentioned that it was because of Dalton that he and Kurt met, Brevyn remembered them looking at each other and grinning. Their eyes sparkled and Blaine softly sung the opening lines to Teenage Dream under his breath. The wind whipped them away and Kurt didn't hear it as he blew a kiss to Blaine. But Brevyn heard and saw Blaine's expression. His eyes were wide and he was softly smiling, looking for all the world like he had nothing else to gain in life. Then he turned to Brevyn and grinned normally. That was when Brevyn realized he would be alright, if something that good had come out of the school before, he would be alright.

And it did turn out well. When Brevyn was finally pulled into Windsor, he met quite a few colorful characters. He had already met many of the boys earlier in life, but they had not gotten to be good friends because their Dads had a tendency to meet without them. They always claimed that if they brought their sons along, it was too much crazy at one time, and too many people together at one time. They had only decided that after trying to make the boys meet a few times when Brevyn was four. Also the boys had gone to different junior highs. Now they were all under one roof.

* * *

When Winston walked in the door ahead of Brevyn, the eldest was tackled by two fast moving blond balls of fun. "Harry!" They had yelled, causing Winston to fall to the ground with the force of their attack. Winston was smothered under the two forms as he flailed around on the stone floor.

"Mike! Mitch!" Winston had breathed, hugging them back before he struggled to get to his feet. Finally the two got up off Winston, pulling the shorter boy up with them. They were absolutely identical. Light blond hair with green eyes and wide smiles that made Brevyn think of the Weasley Twins before he discovered their obsession with the magical world of Harry Potter. They were standing, arms around each other as they finally noticed Brevyn.

"Oh Harry, who is this?" They had asked, peering curiously at the youngest Anderson. Brevyn shifted uncomfortably in his suede boots until Winston chuckled, clearly glad to be back in his home.

"This is my little brother, you've seen pictures of him before." Their eyes lit up and they laughed boisterously. "Ron!" They announced with a grin, each one placing a hand on one of his shoulders and causing Brevyn to shift under their pressure. "Welcome to Gryffindor."

"Please don't scare him before he has been here twenty-four hours." Winston had requested until a tall, African-American boy came up behind him and gave him a hug. Winston jumped, his golden eyes momentarily growing wide until he realized that it was Beckett standing behind him and invading his personal space. The two best friends had then smiled and Beckett nodded to Brevyn once he had untangled himself from Winston.

"Look Hermione! We found Ron!"

Beckett ignored the rambles, focusing in on Brevyn. "Glad to see you again. And don't let them scare you, you will fit in perfectly here." That reassurance from his practically-brother made Brevyn feel better. Thanks to the warm welcome, he could feel his fear melting.

Next, a booming voice carried over the crowd. "Oy! Over here all you newbies!" Brevyn looked around nervously until the Weasley Twins laughed.

"Lets go meet Prefect Percy. Our normal prefect is already in the nurses office."

"Not that we had anything to do with it." Mike reassured the freshman.

"Not directly."

"He just tripped in reaction to our Nerf Guns."

"And marshmallow guns."

"However, he should be used to it by now."

"Mike and Mitch shut up." Eric commanded from his position at the top of the large staircase. "Your voices carry almost as much as Winston's." Winston glared at the Acting-Prefect as Mike and Mitch playfully ruffled his twisted hair. "Okay," Eric began in on his speech with a clap and a bright smile. "Welcome to Windsor. We are one of three dorms at Dalton Academy. If at any point you feel the need to change houses, you can. However, you have been assigned here based off of family history, request, or a personality questionnaire they had you fill out. And they don't put you here unless they really think you can handle it." Eric glanced at the older boys, who were lounging in the back as they watched the freshman worry. "So no worries, you will get used to it. But if it really is too much after a couple weeks, come talk to me and I will work it out."

* * *

Blaine laughed quietly from his position by the door.

"Oh dear… they are scaring them before they even get into it." Kurt worried, watching Brevyn grow paler and paler with every word coming from the prefect's mouth. Blaine just smiled.

"He will fit in here. Winston will take care of him. And unless I'm mistaken, he already has nearly everyone loving on him." Winston and his friends were watching Brevyn carefully. Winston's eyes never strayed from his younger sibling, and the rest of the boys were watching out for Brevyn as well.

* * *

A boy standing next to Brevyn slipped a piece of candy out of his pocket and handed it over.

"Here." He whispered. "It helps with nerves." Brevyn glanced at the hard caramel in his hand and then up at the boy. The boy had brown hair and shadowy brown eyes. His hair was combed down into straight strands, and his uniform was crisp. He stood about half a head taller than Brevyn.

"What? Who are you?" Brevyn asked quietly as he lost track of Eric's speech.

"I'm Alan Houstan. You?"

"Brevyn Anderson."

"Ah… I've heard of your family from my dad. My Dad is Dwight." Brevyn made the connection.

"Isn't your Dad really into…"

"Yes. Don't bring it up." Alan took out another caramel and put it into his mouth. "He is crazy." Brevyn shrugged, popping his own candy into his mouth. He had heard plenty about his Dad's crazy friends, and was slightly curious to see what each of their sons would be like.

* * *

Dwight made a face. "Why does he have that candy? I haven't checked out that store and maybe it's haunted…"

"Dwight, relax." Wes commanded as he leaned against the wall from between David and Kurt. Two identical voices added their own opinions into the mess.

"Relax White Knight."

"They have it under control."

"Well,"

"As much of under control as Windsor ever is." Evan and Ethan Brightman were wearing identical white shirts with the top two buttons undone. Their hair was hanging loose, and their ties were slightly off center. They were each holding their jackets on the index finger of their left arm, and had the black jackets thrown over their shoulders. Their black pants were creased at the back of the knees and their right legs were crossed over their left. Their toes were pointing upwards, and they wore Cheshire Cat grins on their faces.

* * *

Roger squirmed his way into a more open space and gasped as he was able to breath. Once he had filled his lungs with air a few times Roger finally realized he was still lost. "Oh my." The small boy worried, glancing around him. He had just been with Alan when he got lost… There. Roger raced forwards again, squirming his way between all the various elbows and knees. He came out between Alan and a boy with well-managed hair and startling gray eyes. "Hello." He squeaked and the boy smiled hesitantly. He was pale, with high cheekbones and a delicate face. His hair was swept back with hairspray and his uniform was impeccable.

"Hello, I'm Brevyn Anderson."

"Roger Hughes."

* * *

"Hey, there is Roger!" The Dads quietly cheered as David located another one of their sons. Roger had joined Alan and Brevyn, and the three were quietly talking while ignoring Eric. Eric had completely lost the crowd of boys by this point, but he was required to make the speech and so he continued on. Charlie laughed.

"I remember making that speech… oh it is horrible. Nobody in Windsor can listen."

"Yeah… we are a bit better at breaking the rules than paying attention." Blaine admitted with a smirk. "Still are actually…"

Everyone nodded in agreement. After a moment, Kurt glanced around and found a tall, dark, messy head winding it's way through the crowd. "Reed, Shane, found Cian!" The two overly-protective parents jumped up, looking through the crowd to where Kurt had indicated. Reed tripped in his excitement, but Shane easily wrapped an arm around Reed's waist and held the designer up. Reed sighed happily as he found the other three gathered at the front and Shane smiled. They began to relax as the other boys greeted their son with beams.

* * *

Cian found himself standing next to a small Asian boy, a normal one, and his cousin. "Hey Brev." Brevyn looked up and his face broke into a wide grin as he wrapped his arms around Cian's taller figure.

"Cian!" They hugged and whispered the how-are-you-I'm-good-thanks that was required.

"So, I hope you paid attention but I know you didn't, just ask someone." Eric hopped down off the stairs, his shoes landing on the wooden floor with an audible thump. The prefect slipped into the crowd as the boys dispersed.

The four freshman that had gathered around glanced at each other. "Did you hear any of that?" Cian asked. The other three shook their heads. However, a second later, Reed went falling into their arms as the Dads arrived to lend hands. Winston, Beckett and Mike and Mitch appeared as well, willing to lend their own aide and advice to the new freshman.

* * *

That was a life-changing event in Brevyn's life, and snapshot Alan took as they first walked into Cian and Brevyn's room hung on his corkboard. Everyone was crammed into the space. Brevyn was sitting carefully on the couch while Cian lounged on the beds. The Dads were all gathered around the desks and windows, grinning as they pointed to things left from their years at Dalton. Winston was sitting on the table with the rest of the boys gathered around him as they made funny faces at the camera.

The next picture was of the Warbler's after the first sectionals competition. Winston was in the middle, several arms around him as the boys all grinned. Winston looked as if he was about to burst with happiness, eyes shining and his grin wide enough to rival Mike and Mitch. Brevyn was by Winston, stuck between Winston and Beckett, grinning up at his brother as Cian and Roger hugged each other and laughed. Cian was hiding behind his hair somewhat, and his eyes were hidden from view. Roger was laughing so hard that he had tears streaming from his eyes, although that could have been from Cian's massive hug inflicting pain upon the poor boy. Brevyn stood out in the picture because he was the only boy not in uniform, as he had just come along for moral support. However, he had ended up backstage and once the curtains came down, he had been swept up into the hug along with all of Dalton's best singers.

Brevyn felt his foot snag on the edge of the rug and he immediately stopped the spin, his other leg flying out to keep him balanced. He stopped moving before becoming better acquainted with the pale carpet. Brevyn shifted, standing up normally and considering working on dancing again, but came to the realization he hadn't visited Winston today.

Brevyn stood and slipped off his dance shoes, his white socks barely keeping his feet warm as he slipped into the hall and delicately closed his door. The door shut with a soft click and Brevyn turned on his heel, walking off down the hallway. Winston was only a few doors down, and when Brevyn reached his brother's room he heard music playing from inside. Brevyn knocked politely and waited to hear Winston's voice informing him he could enter. He heard footsteps and then a muffled thud as something hit the floor. After waiting for approximately ten seconds, Brevyn's eyebrows drew together over worried gray eyes that widened as he tilted his head. His hair slid sideways out of its carefully arranged state while Brevyn hesitantly raised his hand again. He rapped his knuckles against the thick wood and felt the indents pull against his skin. As another ten seconds passed Brevyn decided he was just going in.

Brevyn twisted the gold handle and pushed the door open, tenderly sliding his foot onto the carpet and looking into the room. Beckett's bed had a deep blue blanket that contrasted against the red of the bed cover. Winston's bed matched, but with music and homework sheets all together and spread all over his bed rather than in neat piles. The white rectangles connected to form a large arc around a Winston-sized spot next to many downy pillows in varying shades of blue. Brevyn frowned when he didn't see his brother occupying the other usually haunt by the keyboard. The sleek white and black keys were exposed and the bench had Winston's prized guitar lying carefully across it. Brevyn's gaze drifted towards the black stereo system that was softly playing Winston's music into the empty room. The area looked undisturbed until Brevyn glanced into the lowered common area. Winston's room was commonly occupied by several Warblers who used the space to practice with their lead, harmonize, ask advice, or just borrow the large theater set up. The white screen was blank and the brown couch was vacant. However, as Brevyn looked downwards he saw Winston lying down on the floor. His dark hair was contrasting sharply against his exceptionally pale skin. His eyes were closed and his lips were barely parted. Brevyn felt his own eyes widen even more and he flew from the door and down to Winston. "Winston?" Brevyn softly put a hand on his brother's shoulder, shaking it as he felt panic begin to rise. "Winston, wake up please." After a couple seconds Brevyn pulled his phone from his pocket. The Blackberry lit up and Brevyn jammed down on the hard keys before pulling the black phone to his ear. He was nearly shaking out of worry and waited impatiently until he heard someone pick up.

"Hello?" Beckett's voice was calm over the speaker and Brevyn felt his own voice wavering.

"Beckett… Winston's on the ground… and-"

"Shit." He heard a chair scraping and someone yelling as Beckett ran away from whatever person he had been working with. "Dorm?"

"Yes."

"Give me a few seconds."

Half a minute later Beckett was kneeling down next to Brevyn. Brevyn had pulled Winston up into a sitting position and Beckett shook his head. "Lay him back down." Brevyn did as he was instructed, and with Beckett's help, Winston was soon horizontal again. "Okay, Brevyn, I need to you grab Winston's water bottle from his bedside table. Brevyn stood, jumping up and spinning until he found the bottle that read "Keep Calm and Carry On". Brevyn took the cherry-red bottle and moved back towards Beckett, who was carefully watching Winston. "Thanks."

"Is he okay?" Brevyn worried, curling up on the couch and gazing fearfully at his brother.

"He is fine. In fact, he is waking up. See?" Beckett nodded to Winston's hand, which curled up. "And his eyes." Brevyn watched as Winston shut his eyes tighter, trying to block out all the light he could. "He is alright, he always is."

As Beckett finished explaining Winston's eyes flickered open and he moaned softly. He shifted, one arm coming up to rub the back of his head. "Stood up to fast to answer the door." He explained quietly, carefully sitting and taking the water bottle the Beckett handed him. Beckett's hands hovered right behind Winston's shoulders, ready to steady him if need be. Winston unscrewed the top with shaky hands, and was staring downward for a while before noticing a pair of white socks and gray slacks. Winston glanced upwards and saw Brevyn's wide eyes. "Oh Brev…" He whispered, slowly shifting. He set the water down and, using Beckett and the couch, stood and sat next to Brevyn. Winston wrapped his arm around his little brother, squeezing him softly. "What happened?"

Brevyn looked up at Winston and glared, his expression looking frighteningly like Kurt's when he was angry. "What happened? _I knocked, heard a thump, walked in, and found you passed out on the floor! Then, when Beckett came he acted like this is normal and has happened before! _" Winston nodded slowly, as Brevyn glowered at him, face flushed and eyes alight with frustration.

"That's because it has happened before." Beckett answered for Winston. The eldest Anderson glanced at Beckett and frowned. His golden eyes were darker than normal, and they clearly desired for Brevyn to not be informed of his current medical issues. Beckett ignored his best friend's wish, as he knew that Winston had a tendency to be overprotective of Brevyn. This was something that he deserved to know.

"There is no need to worry him-"

"Winston, this is the third time in the past four weeks." Brevyn felt his eyes widen from their narrowed state to one of surprise. "And you are always nauseous, and you are losing weight-"

"Cause I am nauseous and don't feel like eating! It's a circle and as soon as I manage to eat again I will be fine."

"No, you wont, you have never had this issue before."

"But it will go away!"

"You don't know that."

"Everything always goes away!"

"What if it doesn't?" Brevyn interjected inaudibly, his voice gently sliding into the pause before Beckett's already formed response. The speed with which the comments had flown back and forth lead Brevyn to believe the two had argued about this before. Brevyn also knew that Beckett had probably brought this up, but if Winston is already frustrated with someone, he tends to ignore logic. "Winston, what if it doesn't?"

Winston regarded his brother. Brevyn's hands were placed on his knees as he was sitting up straight. His gaze was on Winston, carefully watching him. However, he was clearly very worried. Which was exactly what Winston had been trying to avoid. "If it doesn't go away by Winter Fest then I will let people run tests or whatever they want." Winston made his voice remain calm, forcing it to even out by using his years of vocal training. "I am not quitting with Sectionals tomorrow and Winter Fest two weeks away. I'm not doing that to everyone." His voice had reached low volume that caused Beckett to lean forward.

"What if that is too far away Winston? What if something happens to you between now and then?" Beckett asked. He was considering Winston's posture. His back was arched and his shoulders curved in. And when Winston just shook his head Beckett sat next to him, nearly sitting on top of the fragile singer so that he could pull Winston into a hug. "We will figure it out." He promised and Winston nodded, his nose digging in against Beckett's shoulder. At that point Brevyn smiled softly, and recognized that his brother was in excellent care. He hugged Winston softly before lithely twirling from the room in a blur of refined movements.

As Winston heard the door shut he pulled away and took a deep, shuddering breath. "In the mean time, will you help me set up for the Harry Potter marathon tonight?"

* * *

The boys were all gathered together in a massive pile. The coffee table had been moved to the side and was wedged between Beckett's bed and desk. The couch had been shifted backwards so that most of the open space in Winston and Beckett's room was as close to the movie screen as possible. Winston and Beckett were situated on the couch, each one leaning on pillows that were held up by the armrests. The worn leather and plush feel made the couch an ideal place to stay for several hours of moving watching. Winston and Beckett were spread out, their feet reaching the other's torso as Winston curled up against the back of the couch and Beckett stole the covers. They were both watching the familiar movies, enjoying the normal activity that the Windsor Warblers engaged in before Sectionals and many other performances.

The rest of the boys were gathered at different places on the ground, squished between each other, pillows, and an astounding number of blankets. The Weasley Twins were naturally overly excited to watch the Harry Potter movies and so they overcompensated. The duo had arrived with fifty blankets, a large amount of popcorn, and a sickening amount of confections. As the rest of the boys began to find their way into the dorm room, more blankets and pillows were added into the mixture until Winston and Beckett retired to their couch in order to avoid it all.

They told the boys they could have however many sugars and blankets they liked but they were not to touch anything musically related all evening, and they had to sleep some so that they could perform well at Sectionals or Winston would happily murder them all by playing their song at the loudest decibel possible for a month straight. Therefore, by three o-clock in the afternoon the Warblers were well into the films and everything was going according to plan.

Many of the boys ingested dangerous levels of candy. The Brightmans had a list of everyone's favorite candy, and they made sure that each person got a box of their favorite. Therefore, the boys were running off of the dangerous concoction of pure sugar, Harry Potter, and each other.

* * *

Winston took a slice from the dark chocolate orange that the twins had brought him. He was carefully peeling the foil back and taking small bites, enjoying the flavor. "How long has it been now?"

Beckett took another bite of his Ghirardelli chocolate bar. "Since summer." Winston raised his eyebrows, watching as Beckett ignored the depressing remark in that statement.

"Beck… that's not good. I will take you home with me more often, and we can visit her once a month at least. That would help." Beckett was already shaking his head, his mind reeling with a thousand and one practical reasons that would never work.

"Homework, rehearsal, plane tickets…"

"Do homework on the plane. Ask Ms. Marinelli to reschedule rehearsal. The Brightmans can provide plane tickets…"

"Winston, it's not an option. I can't do that all year round."

Winston was quiet as Beckett watched his pajama pants. "Beckett, we can help you see her more often."

Beckett managed a smile in Winston's direction. "Not really. We just… deal though the year and we will enjoy the summers."

* * *

Brevyn thoughtfully took another bite of his cupcake. Brevyn was the only one of the boys who never ate candy. That was because he practically had his own chef. "How are you and Pierce?" Roger's voice was quiet but Alan and Cian heard and turned their attention to Brevyn.

"Well, Pierce is over here all the time. Do we need to ask?" Alan reminded Roger and the other boy rolled his eyes.

"I am genuinely interested in the well-being of my friends relationship! So how is Pierce?"

Brevyn smiled at the name and blushed slightly, causing the other sophomores around him to laugh. "We are good." Brevyn finally answered after swallowing his bite. "He bakes, I dance, and then we hang out in our free time."

"Just remember to hang a tie on the door!" Cian teased his roommate as he took another Red Vine from the packaging. Brevyn stuck his tongue out at Cian as the other boy raised his eyebrows and grinned before taking a large bite from his twisted red candy.

"There is no need for that." Brevyn muttered as he turned his attention to the movie just in time to watch Harry begin talking with Professor Slughorn.

Alan laughed. "You two are so cute when you are together, it is sickening. I vote yes on the tie rule."

"Plus, we all hang out in your room… we don't want to just wander in expecting to find you dancing and instead…" Roger earned a pillow in the face for his comment.

"Shut up, all of you. I will make your lives hell if you continue down this path of uncomfortable conversations."

"Brev, your Diva is showing."

"Shut up."

* * *

Mike and Mitch were cuddled together under a few blankets. Their elbows were propped up on one extra large pillow and their blond heads were close together as they traded lines. Their elbows were staring to hurt from a lack of movement.

They were on their tenth lollipops for the evening. The swirly candies were appalling shades of neon. Currently, Mike was working an orange one, while Mitch put his effort into a key-lime green one. In between their lines, they would lick the hard candy, and then rattle off the next line. It was unbelievably well rehearsed and the two Brightman boys were being ignored by the rest of the Warblers.

Mike missed a line because he nearly dropped his lollipop. Without missing a beat, Mitch said the line and Mike took the next one.

* * *

The Warblers, especially the Windsor branch, were a lively bunch. But Sectionals was the next day, and so they all quieted down before midnight. By the time the minute and hour hand had found each other and were pointing at twelve, all the boys were curled up amongst the many blankets and pillows strewn over the floor.

Winston was the last one to fall asleep, and before he did so he turned the projector off and then slowly made his way back to the couch, doing his best to avoid the sleeping singers and dancers around him.

As he walked back through the middle of the mess, Winston found one person he had forgotten to talk to all night. "Sleep tight." He murmured as he recognized Brevyn's form. The sleeping sophomore curled up tighter, his hair coming out of it's gelled state and pressing against the pillow. As Winston watched his brother shift in his sleep he took a deep breath and continued on his way to the couch. He had been debating telling Brevyn about the issues Winston was having. The nausea, weight loss, the fainting… Brevyn had nearly found out earlier. However, he still hadn't gotten the full story as details about how often and how long the issues had been around was conveniently left out of the earlier conversations. He would have to be told at some point though. But Winston didn't want to worry his little brother, and the protective instinct always won. So Winston drifted off into sleep with a new resolve to keep his brother as happy and carefree as possible. Not that that was easy in a school like Dalton.

* * *

For the first time in a couple weeks, the knife stayed shut away in the wooden drawer and the kitchen remained empty.

* * *

_Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter._


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or Dalton._

_Hello again, and sorry for the delay. I kept trying to write this chapter... but I kept trying to start it off in the wrong place. And the boys wouldn't do anything. So sorry for the delay, but I hope you enjoy it._

* * *

Pierce waltz around the familiar kitchen. His fingers easily measured out cups of flour, sugar, and other baking ingredients. Eggs cracked smoothly, and occasionally yolks were separated from the egg whites.

This had been going on for the last two hours. Slowly, every available space of the kitchen had been covered with cupcakes, snacks, or the giant layered cake in the middle of the island. The last batch of cupcakes had been removed from the oven and Pierce was nearly finished with the last bowl of icing. It's electric blue shade was staining his fingers, cheeks, arms, apron, and hair along with all of the other vibrant colors that were decorating the tops of the other baked eatables. His brown eyes remained bright and cheerful as he softly sang along to whatever song was running through his head.

The Windsor kitchen rarely got used by any of the Windsors. The boys that generally ended up in that house had difficulty with cooking, and so they were limited to using the sink, refrigerator, and sometimes the toaster if they were particularly capable. Two boys were allowed to work the coffee maker. However, Hanover's resident baker was often in Windsor. And he usually baked. Which allowed the Windsors to have food and survive. Even so, this was a special occasion and so all of the residents had been banned from the kitchen. Except for Brevyn.

Across the room, Brevyn was writing his history notes about World War II. They were carefully organized and color-coded with highlighters. His sleeves were carefully kept away from any wet ink left by his pen, and his handwriting was beautiful cursive script that flowed across the pages.

As Pierce had frosted the cupcakes, Brevyn had rearranged the delectable treats. The Battle of the Bulge, had slowly formed across the counters of the kitchen. As Brevyn carefully ordered the cupcakes into their correct lines. When the area each cupcake represented suffered a casualty, Brevyn carefully placed a few red sprinkles on the very tip of the cupcake. In this methodical manner, Brevyn's notes and history book were put into a physical representation. After Brevyn finished, he stood on a chair and took a few pictures. He grinned and then set to finishing his notes about why certain areas suffered more casualties than others. Visually representing it allowed him to find their mistakes, and he was brutal is criticizing the small confections for their leadership mistakes.

It took Pierce quite a while to realize what his boyfriend was doing. He finally recognized that his babies were being rearranged after he set them down. The result was Pierce staring around him as he attempted to figure out what Brevyn had arranged them into. "Is it… modern art?"

Brevyn glanced up from his notes with a sigh. The cupcakes were not living up to their glorified honor as they kept making errors of judgment on their placement. "No, it is the Battle of the Bulge."

"Much less exciting." Pierce grinned as Brevyn waved a hand, ignoring his comments. Pierce stepped around the large puffs of sugar and flour as he made his way towards the dancer. He wanted to go over a give Brevyn a hug. Pierce felt bad for ignoring his boyfriend all day as he baked. Normally a hug and a kiss would make up for that.

However, once he was a foot away Brevyn raised one eyebrow. This was usually his 'you really want to continue doing that?' face if it was not accompanied by a grin. Currently, it lacked the grin.

Pierce stopped and tilted his head to the side, causing his colorful locks to fall to the side and give him a comical appearance. Brevyn nearly chucked at the adorable expression of confusion that had overtaken the baker's features. "You are covered in stuff that will stain every article of clothing I am wearing." Pierce finally glanced down at his clothing and realized this was true. He accurately represented an ingredients list, even though most people might not be able to pick out each ingredient.

"But I love you…" Pierce pouted and held his arms out, wiggling his fingers in invitation.

"Yes, well, I like my clothes." Brevyn brushed his hands down over his own slacks and shirt as he tried to avoid grinning at Pierce's antics.

Pierce never understood how Brevyn always managed to avoid getting messy. His clothing, hair, and anything else he had with him were immaculate. Except for Pierce, who always had some lingering mess accompanying him.

Currently, Brevyn's hair was held away from his face with what was probably a large amount of hairspray. His shirt had been ironed, even right around the buttons where most boys gave up if they even bothered to iron their shirts at all. His black slacks had been pressed and folded correctly. Brevyn's gray eyes were slightly tightened as he took in the mess around him. "Pierce, you have got to put on clean clothes before you come any closer."

Pierce started to turn around before a wicked glint came over his face. Brevyn paled slightly and his eyes widened. "Pierce… Pierce what are you doing?" Pierce was slowly inching closer again. Each foot would slide forwards a few inches, bringing his messy clothes a little closer to Brevyn's clean area. He was careful to avoid the cupcakes that were around them as he placed one arm on either side of Brevyn. Brevyn squeaked and leaned back, trying to keep his shirt stain-free. "Uncle Reed gave me these clothes, they aren't even available yet-" He was cut off as Pierce softly kissed him. Brevyn didn't move for a second. But then he started to kiss Pierce back. Pierce swiftly pulled away and stepped back to his icing with an evil giggle.

Brevyn was left leaning against the counter and wondering why he really cared about clothing as much as he did. After all, he was just as whipped as the icing.

Pierce tied the end of the icing package, placing the tip on the end as he began to frost the last of the cupcakes.

"Pierce…"

"After the cupcakes."

"How can you care about the cupcakes so much?" Brevyn asked as he inched closer and wondered how hard it would be to get Pierce's apron far enough away that the other refused to bake. He would probably bake without it. Or go grab another apron. No doubt that was one of the few articles of clothing he could name, and find, with in a few minutes.

"How can you care about clothing so much?"

"I won't if you come back. Or we could just do away with the clothes and solve that problem right there."

Pierce flushed. He had not thought this would the reaction to his little stunt a minute earlier. "No. I am finishing these."

"And then…"

"And then we have to go get ready."

"Mmhmm… two hours early? Even for me?"

Pierce glanced up. His cheeks were still bright pink and they remained so as he ignored Brevyn's insinuating expression. "Oh hush."

* * *

Roger doubled over and moaned. "Come on Tristan, just give it back!"

Tristan just grinned, let Roger catch his breath. "You are doing great. No really, any way I can recruit you for spring track?" Roger made a face at the older boy. Tristan laughed and then started running again. His feet were quiet on the grass and he was enjoying the slight jogging pace that Roger kept him at. Most of Dalton needed to run more, and Tristan had tried to tell them that. It was why they now had a year round track team. However, it was limited to a few boys. Eric and Peter showed up, but mostly to just sit around and drink coffee and cheer on the ones who were actually running.

Roger moaned again before standing and running off after the agile Hanover Prefect. "Just a little faster!" Tristan voice was recognizable on campus because of the distinct British accent. As Roger picked up the pace a little Tristan flashed a perfect smile and lengthened his stride. Roger's uncomfortable gate would never compete with Tristan's easy stride. Add in the fact that Roger tried to avoid running as much as possible while Tristan loved to run, and Roger would never catch up. Which was, after all, the entire point.

* * *

Eric laughed as he saw his best friend take off again. Roger's slower form was keeping good pace, but there was no match. Tristan wouldn't even be tired at this pace. "How is it going guys?" Eric asked as he turned and surveyed the party preparations.

Most of the boys were setting up streamers, tables, chairs, or other decorations. There was eight large tables set up with ten chairs around them. There wasn't going to be a chair for every boy that showed up. But the couches around the perimeter in addition to the base of the stairs and the floor would hopefully provide areas for the boys who felt they would die if they were on their faces for another moment. The streamers added other colors to the normal blue and yellow that dominated Windsor's common room. Now, they had pink, red, green, orange, and other colors that had been found. All of it clashed horribly, but Cian had brought in enough lights to conceal any errors on the other's color choice.

Pierce and Brevyn were in the kitchen baking, and the rest of Windsor was going to wait as long as possible before going in to get the treats. The two were adorable, but sickly so.

Beckett was the only other boy not putting his effort into the decorations and set up. And that was because he was finishing Roger's homework. The computer Tristan was carrying was actually another Hanover's. They just happened to be identical, and despite the boy's initial protests when Eric asked for it, he had surrendered the electronic to Tristan as his loyalty to the Hanover Prefect won over everything else.

"It is going beautifully!" Mike called as Mitch finished with another streamer. This one was some twisted combination of bright teal and a sickly puke green. Eric made a face. Luckily, they had Cian's lights.

"Fine!" Alan answered as he set up some more chairs. Cian was spreading tablecloths over the tables. Everyone had voted for bright table cloths, but after seeing the streamers fiasco Cian had vetoed that and brought down black table clothes. When the boys had then protested that it looked like a funeral, Cian asked if they would prefer white where stains would show up. Additionally, he said it would look fine in the end. They took his word for it.

"Any more song requests?" Winston called as he added a couple Ke$ha songs to the playlist. "And keep them upbeat guys." Winston's never ending music selection came in useful for parties. He managed to put together exceptional lists that matched whatever the event was for. For example, all the songs that the Warblers sang for Sectionals went into this playlist in addition to Roger's favorite songs. A few names were called out. Most of them were already on the list, but Winston had forgotten one of them. He added the song before starting to read through the list again. That would take him a while and so Eric moved onto checking the next person.

"Done." Beckett typed the last word, pressed save. and shifted Roger's computer away from him. "Dear god, that boy has horrible grammar. It was killing me to write like him." He made a face and shook his head. "I am going to tutor him just so that I don't even have to suffer through that again when this happens next year."

"Thanks for setting aside your perfectionism for the sake of the greater good." Eric grinned at Beckett, who just waved a hand before standing to bring Roger's work upstairs.

Eric pulled his phone out and told Tristan to keep running for a while more. The Hanover Prefect responded promptly and Eric wondered how is friend managed to text and run at the same time. Eric could barely managed to stand still a text, much less keep up a ridiculous mile time and respond with full-length words and sentence. Texting or speaking.

After another fifteen minutes Pierce opened the door to the kitchen and the entire room inhaled the delicious sent of cakes and snacks. "Somebody come help me carry these."

The Brightmans easily hopped over and took several bowls of chocolates, fruits, and chips over to the various tables. Cian and Alan balanced a large tray of pink and yellow cupcakes between them as they carried it over to a long buffet table. Shortly after them, Beckett and Winston brought out a similar tray of blue and red cupcakes. The boys were already impressed with the assortment of food before Pierce and Brevyn brought the triple-level cake out.

"Pierce… you didn't have to go to all that trouble." Eric said with a grin as he stared at the cake. It was large and with various optical illusions all over each individual level. The result made it hypnotizing, but also headache inducing. It was quiet possibly the best cake Eric had ever seen.

Pierce just laughed. "Oh no, I wanted to make one! This was the perfect excuse. Although, try to keep everyone away from it while I go get cleaned up."

With that, the strawberry blond baker slipped out of Windsor and started walking across campus.

"Need anymore help?" Brevyn asked. Eric glanced down at the smallest Anderson.

"Nope. Our double Roger's-Birthday-and-Winning-Sectionals party is all set up. Go get ready and mentally prepare yourself. I left entertainment to the twins, Cian, and Winston."

"Oh dear… why did you do that?" Eric laughed at Brevyn's worried expression. He understood what would happen with the Brightman's enthusiasm combined with his brother and cousin's talent.

"The best in lights, music, and entertainment are all in our dorm… and this is probably one of the biggest parties that will take place this year minus New Years."

Brevyn was still worried even though he knew they had amazing resources. That was part of what worried him. However, he decided against complaining and instead made his way towards the stairs.

Cian noticed his cousin going to get ready and made his way over to join him. Cian did not want to interrupt, or be in the room, later when Pierce would be over.

* * *

Beckett fell onto the couch next to Winston, who was taking a large sip from his water bottle. "How ya doing?"

"Alright." Winston answered with a tight smile.

"And by that you mean…"

"Not really alright at all. However, I will stick it out." Winston made a face as he took another long draw of water.

"Have you had anything to eat today?"

"Yup. I had some cereal earlier. And I will eat way too many of Pierce's cupcakes. I always do." Beckett laughed. Winston and his brother had an admitted sweet tooth.

"Okay then." Just then Pierce slipped back into Windsor. He looked around and smiled at the boys in the common room before walking upstairs.

Beckett and Winston just erupted into quiet laughter as they waiting for the party to begin.

* * *

Many boys were sitting around and trying to talk over the pounding music. The vibrations vibrated everyone's bones and made talking virtually impossible. That combined with the mind-blowing lighting made the room practically uninhabitable. Another group of boys, mostly belonging to the dance team, had set up an impromptu dance battle. Something about the crazy lighting and amazing beats presented was too much to pass up. Pierce found himself laughing from his seat as Brevyn clearly took the lead. Pierce never got tired of watching Brevyn dance. It was similar to watching Winston sing. Brevyn was just alive when he was dancing. He was graceful, and his face was excited and happy. He was in his element and leagues ahead of the rest of the boys. Pierce cheered Brevyn on by clapping his hands and yelling encouragement along with the rest of the Windsor boys.

Roger was just finishing his slice of cake. Everyone had been so excited for cake, which they decided it had to happen before any other festivities too place. Although it was beautiful on the outside, the inside was even better. All the boys had gone back for another slice if possible. Even if they felt they had no room for said slice. Pierce just laughed and waved away the compliments that boys continued to throw at him as they walked past. Most of them had had his baking before, and they just continued to be amazed and happy that they had access to it.

* * *

Roger received most of the attention as boys wished him a happy birthday. Although Roger was a quiet boy, he had legacy and was known around campus some. And Dalton boys knew how to get presents. The result was way too many gifts. They dropped off presents at the stairs, where Eric, Tristan, and Peter were organizing them. The prefects happily stacked the presents into piles at the top of the stairs where more Windsors would later move the gifts into Roger and Alan's dorm room. However, they were slightly worried that the gifts might not all fit into the room in their wrapped state and so they began to try and plan where it would go. However most of their time was dedicated to enjoying their game of guess-what-the-gift-is.

"Computer." Eric said as he held out Beckett's present.

"No way, that's too generic." Peter argued as he handled a large box from one of the Stuarts. "By the way, this has got to be a coffee maker. Or a hot chocolate maker which is more likely as it is for your house."

"Oooohh!" Tristan and Peter burst into laughter at Eric's excited expression.

"Aren't you a senior? Shouldn't you not make noises like that?" Peter asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I am a senior and I am comfortable with my masculinity. I can make whatever sort of noise I want." Eric sniffed and proceeded to cross his ankles and primly sit up.

"Very feminine." Tristan complemented Eric, who just grinned before falling into his normal slouched position.

"Your house is crazy." Peter muttered as he took in the massive party going on around him. There was no way they were escaping this without some repercussions.

"We also have the most fun."

"We have fun!"

"Not as much as us. And your fun only takes place with caffeine induced hazes."

Tristan Bancroft shook his head at the other two's squabbles. No matter what happened, Stuart and Windsor didn't get along. Something about their personalities just rubbed the wrong way.

* * *

"Please."

"Absolutely not."

"Come on Joey, you have to."

"No."

Joey marched away from Damien. Damien sighed and slipped through the crowd. Joey's tall blond head was easy to follow in a crowd, even a crowd as large as this one. "Joey, please."

"For the last time no. I can't feel anything when I'm on those pills! I want to feel something alright? I just want to be able to feel I'm alive." Joey was still facing away as he tried to lose one of his best friends in the crowd. His long legs easily stayed ahead of Damien's shorter ones and eventually he succeeded in his attempts to loose his friend. It had taken him half an hour to reach that point.

Damien was tired of arguing with Joey about this. He couldn't force him to take his medication. All he could do was try. He had been trying all week, and Joey hadn't taken his medication a single day. Normally he would at least take it twice a week. When it got this bad, Damien knew he needed back up. Plus he had run out of ideas. Damien pulled his phone out of his pocket and flipped through his numbers. After a second he hesitated over which number to call. Eventually he decided to call both of them.

Damien walked through the doors into Windsor and felt the pulsing vibrations of the music fade as the doors swung shut. He was left in the chilly silence that came with the onset of Winter.

Uncle Julian and Dad picked up soon.

"Damien, are you okay?" His father's worried voice came over first and Damien smiled.

"I'm fine. I just had a question for you and Uncle Julian."

"Right here." Julian's voice floated into the conversation. "Hello Derek and Damien."

"Hey Jules."

"Hello Uncle." Damien shivered slightly. He was not dressed to tolerate the chill that was seeping into his skin. He would only be able to stay out here for a little while.

"Now what did you want to ask us?" Dad was also so practical.

"How do you get Logan to take his meds?"

Julian started laughing. "We don't. We try, but we can't really."

"Yeah, but why are you asking?"

"Is Joey not taking his meds?"

It was Damien's turn to laugh. "He is a complete replica of Logan and you thought he would take his medication?" The two Wrights provided a world of complications for their close-knit group of friends. Mostly when they refused to be on their medication, although even why they were they somehow made issues appear out of thin air.

"Shit." Julian said and Derek sighed.

"I can fly out…" Derek explained.

"I'm going out anyway." Julian argued. "Let me talk to him."

"You are coming out to Dalton? Why?" Damien knew it was a sharp response, but Julian knew that Damien loved spending time with him. But he never flew out. Hollywood was brutal in demanding time from those it employed. Simon was usually the same.

"Bringing Simon back."

"You've never come along before." Simon came back a couple times a year as he tried to keep his filming during the summer and breaks. But the youngest Larson actor was kept busy. His family history would have directors throwing themselves at his feet. Add in the fact that he was just as talented and just as handsome as his father and mother combined, and he was Hollywood's biggest hit.

There was silence on the other end until Derek spoke up. "Jules, whats happened?"

"Things are different. Damien, I'll explain to you when we fly in. D, I'll tell you in a bit. First I have to talk to a couple Directors."

"Julian, is Simon alright?" Damien waited silently on the other end, holding his breath. He needed to know if his best friend was alright. Neither Joey nor Damien had heard from Simon in a while, which was unusual but not unheard of when his schedule started to catch up to him. At that point, they would rather the actor stay healthy a sleep until he was well enough to contact them. If it lasted longer than a month though, they called and sometimes even flew out to LA.

More silence. Then Julian sighed. "Not really. I will explain. And hopefully he will talk to you. Now I really have to go. Thanks, and I will try to help when I come in tomorrow."

Julian left the line. Derek sighed. "Hang in there Damien, I know it's hard. But keep track, and I will try to think of some way to help."

"Thanks Dad. See you for break. Who's house are we at this year?"

"Logan and Joey's. See ya in a week."

* * *

Peter shook his head as he watched Brevyn step off the dance floor. Pierce gave him a quick kiss and the two shared a hug and a few words before Winston gave his brother a hug and a wide grin. "Why are those two so talented?"

"They got more than their fair share, that's for sure." Tristan agreed.

"Yeah, but something is happening. Winston isn't doing so well." Eric sighed as he leaned forwards to rest his face in his hands. The three were still sitting on the top of the stairs. They generally stayed out of the party so that they could break it up if it got too bad. Additionally, they could see everything. And there were certainly boys that needed to be watched.

Eric's elbows were propped up on his knees as he slouched forwards. Peter was leaning against the railing and peering down at the mass of boys around the bars. No doubt he was going to end up with a mark on his forehead, but he really didn't care at this point. Tristan was sitting up properly and surveying the people below him. His training from being younger and in high society never left him alone.

"What's wrong with him?"

"I have no idea." Eric admitted. "I don't know if it is something I should ask about, or just let him handle. Beckett does a good job in making sure Winston is fine, but I also don't want to stress Beckett out by leaving it solely to him."

"Maybe he is just stressed out?" Peter suggested. "That happens all the time."

"Yeah, more so in your house than in ours, but… it isn't that. Just watch him. Something is off." Tristan and Peter found Winston. They watched him, and once he was done talking to Brevyn he turned away. He made a face and Beckett was immediately at his side. Winston waved him away but sat down at the table and rested heavily on it. "See?"

"Yes." Tristan agreed. The levelheaded boy turned to peer down at Eric. "You need to talk to him. Something is happening."

"Alright… but do I wait a little longer to see if it goes away by break or do I talk to him before then?"

"Wait until break. If he is stressed or just needs to sort something out, then the break will let him do that." Peter suggested.

Eric nodded. "Alright then." He was still worried, but he would listen to the other's advice. Unless Winston appeared to be going downhill.

* * *

Cian was talking with Alan. "Are you going home or on a trip for break?"

"Ugh… trip. I refused to go home to that castle again. Whenever there is a noise in the night, Mom grabs her crystal ball in order to communicate with the 'poor bothered soul'. Then Dad runs out with salt and everything else in order to 'Protect all of you. I won't let anything hurt you!" I am not dealing with that over break. We are going to Paris for a while. They love the old buildings where they can search for ghosts and whatever they want until their hearts are content. I love all the beautiful women and good food." Cian laughed at Alan's grin.

"So that is why you love French so much."

"I like languages." Alan flashed a wink in Cian's direction. "But it does help."

"Is this why you never have a girlfriend?" Cian asked as he pushed his wild curls away from his face.

Alan laughed and adjusted his shirt. "Only partially. It would be fairly boring to stay with one girl forever."

"Hey." Beckett interrupted their conversation with a grin. "No it is not."

"Yeah, but it is different for you." Alan explained. "You are practically married to her. Plus, you already have the soul of a thirty year old. None of us could manage that."

"Clearly." Beckett answered. That earned him a couple of 'hey!'s and some snacks flicked in his direction. "You can't even keep from damaging property every week, much less avoid damaging a relationship."

"You are just as bad as us in the rules category. There is a reason we are all in Windsor." Cian tagged on and Alan nodded.

"True. I remember my first destruction of property." Beckett made a fond expression and the gathering group of boys laughed. Whenever Windsor boys began to tell stories, people tended to listen. If only to know what to do the next time it happened. "It was only two weeks into Freshman year when those two forced me to try and help them with a 'project'." Beckett pointed at the Weasley Twins, who only grinned back. The rest of the table moaned. Those two started everything. "See, I figured, it is biology, how bad can it get? It can get very bad. The result was a couple over-turned ant-farms, several frogs on the loose, one hedgehog which was later found in Eric's chair, and eight snakes missing around campus. You can only imagine how much damage occurred as we tried to catch all of these creatures without telling the staff." The boys were all laughing and grinning at this point. Either they could imagine what it looked like, or they had been there for the even and were remembering the chaos that ensued. The entire campus had joined in on the game, and on more than one occasion an entire class had joined in to distract a teacher while another student grabbed and hid the escaped animal in his bag. "That was when the entire campus knew we would never be safe with the Brightmans around." Mike and Mitch stood and bowed to the applause of those around them. After they performed an overly-complicated handshake they sat down as everyone around them laughed.

"Additionally, the staff realized they were in trouble. Well, once they found the snake in Ramsey's office." Winston joined in the story. "I don't think she has even been able to walk around the school without looking for another one since."

Some of the freshmen that had made their way into the party gathered around to listen to the stories. Winston settled on his with a gin. "Okay, so this doubles as Brev's, but I'm sure he has many stories of destruction." Brevyn bowed his head in acknowledgment while cuddling up to Pierce. "I was a little nervous about letting him into Windsor if I am being honest. I mean, we are a pretty destructive bunch. But he fit right in. I knew that, because on his first day he made everyone evacuate the South and Main."

Everyone made faces and Brevyn blushed before commenting, "Oh we are telling _that_ story… "

"Yes, I am." Winston grinned and leaned backwards. "I was walking back from the bathroom and I heard someone walking around. But since it was the first day I wondered if perhaps someone was lost or something, plus I really hated physics, and so I stopped and went down the hall. Just as I turned the corner, a bunch of lights went on and the sirens started wailing. The next thing I saw was Brevyn sitting on the floor with the button on the hand of his blazer caught on the fire alarm." Everyone started laughing and Brevyn hid his face against Pierce's shirt. "So then the sprinklers come on. It appears that there actually was a fire in the chemistry room because the alarm frightened Professor Johnson into lighting a couple beakers on fire. So I went over and helped Brevyn get his button out of the fire alarm and we went outside to line up with out classes. The teachers kept asking who had pulled the fire alarm, but eventually a junior explained what happened in their class and said someone pulled the fire alarm."

"That would have been Eric." Brevyn added in and they all laughed.

"Always making the best excuses."

"And watching out for you troublemakers starting on the first day!" Eric called from the stairs and they all grinned up at him.

* * *

Alan rushed to the window in order to watch and say if Dean Ramsey was coming across the lawn. The rest of Windsor tried to minimize the damage of party in addition to trying to scale down the size.

Somewhere around half past midnight Eric had kicked the other houses out and called the party to a close. By that point, several teachers and called to ask what was happening. After that, they decided it was dangerous enough that the party should end. However, it had been a great party full of dancing, too much food, and frolicking. Stories had been passed around until Birthday by the Beatles began to play. At that point, someone, everyone suspected Mike, had picked Roger up and begun to let everyone pass the small sophomore around. Roger had been terrified, and simultaneously excited, as everyone sang along and happily threw him in the air. Tristan had calmed them down once the song ended, and Roger escaped to a chair, which he didn't leave for the rest of the party.

"Uh oh." Alan called and a few minuts Dean Ramsey walked into Windsor. She glanced around and then at Eric. "Care to explain Mr. Amos?"

Windsor, despite everyone's best efforts to minimize the damage, was clearly in need of some repair. After a while, some girls from Dorby had showed up. That had left the boys showing off in some very foolish ways. The result was several broken paintings or other art projects from generations ago, more than a few damaged pieces of furniture and other small issues. Including the torn decorations that were draped over everything and making it look ten times worse. Cian kicked a piece of a banner behind him, but that didn't really help the overall image.

"Well…" Dean Ramsey held up her hand to silence whatever story Eric would have had. She didn't really want to hear it.

"Mr. Amos, it is three thirty in the morning . Please don't lie to me." Eric was quiet as the rest of the residents fidgeted around him. "Now, I understand it was Mr. Hughes birthday. I also understand that the Warblers 'dominated' at Sectionals." That caused many boys to nod. They were hopeful that this happy news would appease their headmistress. "Congratulations to all of you. And Winston, I heard your solo was outstanding." They all grinned at the praise, even more confident that she wouldn't punish them. "However, this is unacceptable behavior for those of you who won." The grins disappeared and they calmly gazed at the Dean's irritated expression. "We are a school for gentlemen. I expect you to celebrate your wins in an acceptable manner. This is most certainly not. I will be telling all of your parents and I expect them to talk to you over the Break or at Winter Fest. Additionally, you all are to attend detention in the lecture hall tomorrow and every afternoon until Winter Break."

As the boys listened to their punishment they nodded and politely remained silent as Dean Ramsey left the room.

Then they burst into conversation. "Overall though, the punishment isn't that bad." Winston agreed.

"She is only happy we won again." Beckett tagged on.

"Thank you Warblers!" Some random freshman called and it was answered with applause.

"Thank you Roger as well." Cian hugged the small boy, who's birthday was now over. "She loves you because you cause the least damage usually."

* * *

The boys continued to discuss the various reasons she let them go so lightly while they cleaned. At six they were exhausted, but most of the house was clean and free of the damage from earlier that night.

Roger had opened his gifts until he found the hot chocolate maker. At that point, the entire house had congregated in the kitchen as Eric and Beckett carefully read the instructions and put it together. Mike and Mitch distributed cups as the hot chocolate started to flow. Before too long all of Windsor was sipping on hot chocolate as they tried to convince themselves it was worth it to go to classes.

"I am so glad-"

"we didn't bring-"

"that." The Brightmans finished together. The older boys glared at the two troublemakers as they understood what drink was insinuated.

"Not on campus. Please not on campus." Eric muttered as he glared at the blond cousins over the edge of his mug. It was steaming up around his face and Eric breathed in, loving the smell of the chocolate. "I will not save you from the administration's wrath. Or the wrath of the boys whose egos are damaged during the course of that evening."

"Oh you would too." Mitch argued with a grin.

"You love us." Mike tagged on as he adopted an identical expression.

"Shut up."

* * *

Somewhere during cleaning up, one boy managed to slip away. Eric didn't even notice as he tried to keep track of the entire house.

But one body did escape his notice for just a few minutes.

And he slipped into the unoccupied kitchen and stole a knife. After adding yet another scar to the already healing incisions on his pale wrist, he slipped back into the chaos outside and rejoined the effort to minimize the damage to everything else.

* * *

_Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it._


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Dalton. _

_Hello again! Thanks for reading the last three chapters, and here is a fourth. It is a bit longer... and starts to set up the stage for a bunch of other crazy things that are coming. Winter Fest is only a couple days away but the boys get a little break before then. _

_Also, I got a review! Thank you to the lovely anon, I'm so glad you liked it! I was a little worried about portraying the original Dalton boys at adults, so thanks. I hope you enjoy this chapter and some of the Pierce and Brevyn moments in it. _

* * *

In Winston and Beckett's room, the two were busy working on separate projects. Winston was filling the air with musical sound, which seemed to be his constant goal in life. Currently, his beloved guitar was gently resting on his leg as Winston's talented fingers ghosted over the strings, shifting from one familiar position to the next. After a while, he stopped to grab a capo and attach it to the third fret. At this point Winston went back to playing several random chords. He settled on a couple, limiting his playing.

Beckett was quietly reading a book. He was barely listening to Winston's playing as he got lost in the pages of the story. As he moved onto a page his fingers would slip behind the page, preparing to turn it over so that he could continue the story with the least interruption. However, he was jolted out of his dream world by the loud bang that ripped through Windsor.

"The entire campus must have heard that." Beckett mused as he took the closest piece of paper and placed it in the novel to keep his place. The pages shut softly as he shifted off of his bed.

"Blown fuse?" Winston continued to absently produce sounds that somehow flowed together into the general outline of a song. He raised on eyebrow and glanced upwards at the lights as if expecting them to die.

"Someone driving over a basketball?" Beckett moved to the window to look outside. There were no cars driving through the parking lot, just dark pavement and stationary luxury vehicles. The wind rose up and Beckett shivered before quietly shutting the window. His shirt was thin and Beckett grabbed a sweater pulling it on as he decided to get his winter stuff out.

* * *

Eyes flashed in the common room in the small group gathered around the coffee table. Each boy defended his cards with his fingers. At the same time they traded cards in and out of their hand while casting furtive glances at the rest of the table. The room was relatively silent for Windsor before a large bang erupted.

"Kitchen mishap?" Roger asked as he placed his pitiful four of spades on the table.

"Fire." Cian set his Jack on top of Roger's card. With a sorry expression thrown in Roger's direction from underneath his pile of curls. Roger made a slight face, but he hadn't been expecting anything else and so he just leaned back against the chair while guarding his cards.

"Gunshot?" Alan placed a King on the top of the pile with a grin. His eyes were bright while Cian and Roger raised their eyebrows at his guess. They liked to think that although Windsor was unique, they weren't quite that violent or crazy. Although the weekly Nerf gun fights seemed to go against the violence argument.

"Falling objects." Brevyn placed his card down, causing Alan to frown. Brevyn's Ace trumped them all and he smiled, exposing two rows of perfect white teeth. His hand gracefully pulled the stack into his pile, which was already the largest of the four boys.

* * *

Link stumbled into his room with a frown, the toes of his shoes scraping against the rug. "What went wrong this time?"

Kelly shrugged as he flicked a switch into the off position. "I don't know. I re-wired the current so that it would avoid short-ciruiting like it did last time. But…"

Link examined the device, starting with the lower left corner. His pale fingers danced over the wires as his gaze easily traced the circuit. His mind was leagues ahead of his body as he searched for the mistake.

Kelly started in the upper right. His fingers were quicker than Link's, but his mind was a couple seconds behind. However, considering Link's mental abilities, that was saying something.

"Right there…" Link pointed to a small separated wire and Kelly hit his head.

His Comic Con hat was displaced on top of Kelly's red hair, but the excited teenager didn't care. "Of course. I thought you were going to do that though!"

"No, I went to go get water." Kelly immediately began to fix the mistake until their door was opened. The heavy door was shoved open with more force than nessessary to open it, and it crashed backwards into the wall. The bang startled both boys. Kelly's fingers yanked the wire further away and he moaned.

"What was that?" Link Westwood turned around to find Eric glaring at them. The tall senior's eyes were blazing. He strode into the room while running one hand through his brown hair.

"Nothing." Link answered smoothly as his green eyes glittered dangerously. His elfin features made his expression appear devious.

"It was just a minor issue." Kelly added as he steadied the worn baseball cap on his head. He looked worried and was not as comfortable as his roommate when it came to dealing with angry seniors.

"Don't worry." Link grinned easily at Eric who frowned at their reactions. Eric shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he watched the two boys in front of him.

"Small, but loud." Kelly turned away to hide from Eric's disapproving glare. He set about reattaching the wire and ignoring the conversation that would be happening around him.

"Please, don't set the dorm on fire." Eric ran his hand through is brown hair. He had distinct dark circles under his eyes and looked worried. Three tests and a couple more lectures about AP classes and Ivy Leagues tended to have that effect. It was the fall of senior year, and so all the eldest boys were on edge as they worried about applications for college. "Again."

"No plans on doing that." Link smiled and pressed a button on the touch-screen panel in front of him. A robot arm brought a fire extinguisher closer and Link grabbed it and held the red instrument up. "Plus, on the off chance that it does, we are totally prepared."

Kelly pressed another two buttons like the first, but on different panels, and two other arms came closer holding their own extinguishers.

Eric only sighed and turned on his heel after scoffing at the boys. However, they were learning to handle the reactions from their crazy experiments, which could only help in the end. "Please. And it is ten o'clock at night, go to bed soon. Or at least stop making loud noises."

As the door shut, Link and Kelly grinned. "So really just be quieter." Kelly amended Eric's statement.

"Or try to be. He did leave that kind of open for wiggle room." Link grinned evilly before motioning to their current project. "Lets go."

* * *

Mike woke up and stretched, feeling his muscles pull as he forced them to move in the morning. Across the room, Mitch was doing the same thing. Both of them were wearing soft blue and white pajamas while their blond hair stuck up in every feasible direction. They sat up, shoved the copious amount of covers off, and shifted to the frigid floor. As they stood there they smiled at each other and then glanced to the windows. They always left the window shades open because they loved the stars and the morning light, even if it made for some early mornings. So why was no light coming in?

* * *

Eric moaned as two large pillows hit his bed. They bounced harmlessly off his back, but provided just enough force to launch the senior into consciousness. He sighed into the soft fabric of his own pillow and resisted the urge to tug the covers up over his head and avoid reality. In the end he blearily opened his eyes before deciding he wasn't quite ready for that. He shut them again, and tightly held the closed. "Yes?"

"Prefect Percy, guess what?" The unmistakably bright voice of Mike, or Mitch, filled the air and Eric made a face into his pillow. He was not equipped to deal with the Brightmans before he had gotten the chance to wake up and talk to people slightly less insane than those two.

"I have no idea Mike."

"I'm Mitch, but it doesn't really matter."

"At all."

"Just guess!"

They were too happy for this early in the morning. Eric carefully considered what damage they could have already produced. The list was endless. "I don't know. I really hate the guessing game, and unless you tell me in the next thirty seconds, I will unceremoniously kick you Weasley Twins out of my dorm room. You know I will. Now spill."

"We have a snow day!" That would explain the cheer. However it brought on another onslaught of questions.

Dalton didn't get snow days. The campus was beautiful and large in terms of the idea that it has three different dorm houses and some athletic buildings. However, the actual distance between the academic building and the various dorms was only a little ways. The boys were usually forced to walk through it no matter what the weather conditions were like. Therefore, in order for a snow day to be called, it had to be nearly impossible for the students and teachers to reach the South and Main.

Eric sat up and rubbed his eyes as he processed the surprising news. "No way. It would take feet of snow…"

"Which we have."

"Four feet and ten inches and still falling."

"No way."

"Way." The Weasley Twins grinned at Eric as a smile spread over his face. Their bright eyes were gleaming and Eric found himself worrying about the snow day. Somehow, he doubted it would be a day of relaxation.

* * *

Windsor was gathered in their common room. A beautiful chandler illuminated the large room and the sweeping stairs that led to the upper floors. Several severe looking portraits attempted to keep the boy's devious plotting from occurring, but the residents of Windsor never listened to the authorities. Listening had never gotten them anywhere in life as far as they could tell. The aforementioned boys were scattered amongst many hats, scarves, and gloves. Several of the pillows from the blue and yellow couches had been added into the mixture, and the result was a group of wildly colorful boys. These conspirators, although highly excited about the snow day, were not paying any attention to their prefect, the seniors, or the Brightmans as they discussed tactics. Although there was some discussion of strategy on a couple Senior's parts, they were overruled by the idea that Windsor would follow its normal plan. However, most of the house would have followed the normal plan even if a different one had been devised due to the noise level in the room and the lack of focus.

Therefore, Windsor decided to wing it and apply the idea that there were no rules. It usually worked for them, and it was easy to remember.

Stuart was calmly gathered in a circle around its main coffee table. The dark wood was engraved with delicate designs that gracefully interlaced and overlapped. All of the coffee mugs that usually sat on the intricate surface had been moved into their owner's hands as they pumped caffeine into their systems and discussed detailed plans. Peter had started the initial plan, which was a good plan by all standards. But if a boy thought he had a better idea, he raised his hand and Peter would call on him. The boy would then explain his idea and the group would vote. Every boy thought his idea was better or that he had another good idea. Admittedly, Stuart did boast the highest GPA and so the boys had many reasons to believe they had a good idea, and many changes were made to the plan. Although the process took forever, it was okay because the Stuarts got up earlier than any other house. In that method, Stuart reached its final battle plan.

Stuart would play the defense for most of the time, but send out Damien and a few of their best athletes to bring down Windsor.

Hanover was preparing to join in, and then stop, the war that would erupt across the campus shortly. They were all gathered in their pajamas and blankets in the common room where Tristan explained the plan. The boys were sitting comfortably on the furniture all together while Tristan rested on a large armchair. The chair was upholstered with aging yellow fabric. A couple red pillows had been thrown on it and the wood was curled beautifully to resemble a throne. Tristan easily occupied the position due to his position as prefect, his personality, and his stature. As a result, an easy quiet had settled over the room as Tristan gave his commands. There was some discussion if a boy wanted clarification or had a question, but they all accepted Tristan's authority. In fact, their plan revolved around their undying loyalty to their prefect.

Hanover obeyed its monarchy and decided to maintain its position as Switzerland. But only after getting some fun in.

* * *

Mike and Mitch Brightman dropped down into the snow from their open windows. It was only a fall of about three feet, and they landed safely in the soft, forgiving powder.

Their skin was entirely covered by neon ski equipment that could have been seen from all the way across campus. Mike was a blood red and Mitch was a deep turquoise. They grinned at each other and high-fived before throwing thumbs up towards the second story of the large brick building.

There was a short pause before windows opened and more boys dropped down.

Roger rolled as he hit the snow, allowing his body to react to the pressure of landing. After a second, he popped up after having managed to avoid getting stuck in the powder. He grinned and pulled his warm leather and rabbit-fur hat down over his pink ears.

Alan absorbed the shock in his legs before clenching his hands to make sure the blood was flowing to his fingers. His gloves kept his hands warm and the rest of his clothing kept the frigid snow away from his body.

Cian fell into the snow with a smile. As he popped up the flaked clung to his eyelashes, scarf and hat. His green-gray eyes were light as he glanced around at the campus, which just looked like a large sheet of white. The unruffled whiteness almost made everything appear calm, but he knew Dalton was anything but. Additionally, the campus would be in a state of chaos in just a little while, so Cian enjoyed the break while it stayed.

Beckett was sensibly dressed in ski gear and sunglasses. He looked around Dalton and noted that although there were lights on in the other houses, the snow around them remained undisturbed for the most part. A second later he was immersed in snow and had to remove his sunglass and wipe them off while attempting to glare at Winston.

Winston grinned as he stood next to Beckett and watched his friend splutter around the snow. Winston face was pink, and he was slightly worried about getting to practice enough for Winter Fest that weekend. But he quickly forgot that as Beckett pulled him forwards and shoved him into the snow. Winston gasped but then grinned and pointed towards Stuart. The two of them then set off towards their rival house to carry out their own plan.

Link and Kelly stealthily made their way towards Stuart. They were dressed in all white, and out of all the boys they were the least noticeable as they crawled towards their destination. Everyone else was hodge-podge of color and Link scoffed at their lack of ninja skills. Clearly, they didn't play as many strategy and war games as they should.

Eric watched all of his boys before reaching the conclusion that he couldn't keep track of them all or the damage they would inflict upon others. However, the thought didn't bother him too much and he quickly realized it was pointless to worry. So he grinned and picked a group of Seniors. He motioned towards Stuart and the four of them began to move out.

The clean blankets of snow were loudly and violently disturbed by Dalton's unruliest house. As the boys quickly made there way through the shimmering snow, they tried to think of how to best irritated the Stuarts.

Eventually, each group reached a different solution as to what they should do to best irritate their lovely schoolmates.

* * *

Link and Kelly climbed over towards the back right hand side of the house, where several windows opened into the Stuart's gleaming kitchen. The white-framed windows were polished, the curtains pulled back, and the lights on so that the two experimenters could easily peer into the wide open room.

The counters were glittering granite tops polished to a perfect state of cleanliness. They reflected the lights that shone down from the top of the tall ceiling, illuminating the many appliances around the kitchen. The many gleaming coffee makers were lined up on one side of the room. Their stainless steel covers were free from any fingerprint marks while a couple pots remained half full of the Stuart's beloved elixir. On the other side, three espresso machines were set up in an array of shades of gold. Many white cups were hung all around the room by their handles on hooks attached to the underside of the cabinets.

"All the cups match…" Kelly whispered in disgust as he tried to avoid leaving breath marks on the windows.

Link shook his head sadly at the order that reigned in Stuart. He then pulled a pin from one of his outer pockets. Mike, Mitch, Evan, and Ethan had spent an entire day teaching many of the boys how to picklock without leaving a trace. It was by far one of the most useful things an adult had ever taught Link.

Once the latch lifted with a slight click, Kelly and Link swung in through the small opening they made. They didn't want to let in a ton of snow that might actually harm the room. So they tried to limit the size of the opening, and the amount of wetness they dragged in with them.

Once inside the room, Link began to unlace his shoes. Kelly turned to find the blond boy leaning down over his boots. Kelly raised an eyebrow and waved his hand over Link's eyes. Link glanced up, sharp eyes focusing on Kelly's darker ones. Kelly drew a question mark in the air and Link pointed to the wet spots the boots left behind. Kelly's face transformed into an expression of understanding and he nodded before bending over and unlacing his own boots. A couple seconds later, and both teenagers were standing in the Stuart's spotless kitchen in their socks.

Kelly stood by the door where he could watch out for "the enemy". The door only made a slight sound as he slid it open. Through the crack, Kelly was able to see the Stuarts standing a circle around Peter as they discussed tactics. Peter was picking on each Stuart, one at a time, as they actually devised different plans. Each plan was then drawn out on a large pad of paper that some Stuart had located and brought down. This pad was then left on the coffee table for all the occupants to read over and make use of. Despite the fact that it helped clarify some confusion, Kelly thought it was a bit over the top. After all, he and Link were already inside. The Windsors had gotten up earlier than normal as the Brightman's joyful yells of glee had woken the entire house at six forty five when they went to go make their daily hot chocolate. Therefore, the unsuspecting Stuarts believed Windsor was a full half and hour behind what it actually was.

As Kelly played watch guard and spied on the Stuarts, Link took four glass vials of clear liquid out of his jacket. He poured a third of a vial into each of the coffee makers and espresso machines, and watched the liquid drain into the well-loved machines.

By the end, the room smelled strongly of vinegar and if anyone walked in they would start to wonder. So Link cracked open the windows so that the room would be well vented.

At that point, Kelly stood and wandered back towards Link. The two of them tugged their shoes back on over their freezing socks and feet before slipping out the same window they entered into the kitchen through.

The room now looked very similar to when the two of them had entered. The door was still barely open, and one coffee pot was slightly off center. Additionally, it was quite a bit colder than it had previously been. The room smelled strongly of vinegar, but none of the addicts that resided in Stuart would be able to place the smell now. Until they had their first sip that was.

* * *

Mike quickly cupped his hands and pressed the sticky snow together. The white clump remained in a ball form as Mike set it next to the growing pile of ammunition. His breath clouded up in front of his eyes, but the energetic blond continued to produce more snowballs as Windsor's battle began.

Mitch was sitting up on Mike's right. In his hands he held a rather large slingshot. The handle was made of a light wood that had been worn down after years of use by both Mike and Mitch. Currently, the snowballs that Mike made were being carefully placed, one at a time, in the slingshot and then launched the bright crystals at Stuart.

The battle was officially on.

* * *

Pierce laughed as Brevyn made another slightly crude comment about somebody's girlfriend before ducking his head and letting his curls fall in front of his eyes as he gazed at Brevyn's knees. His designer jeans were perfect and lacking any wrinkles that normally appeared when people hung around all day while not doing too much. Pierce briefly wondered how his boyfriend managed that, and then wondered why he was constantly astounded by his boyfriend's ability to remain wrinkle and mess free. Brevyn loved fashion and all things related to it like Pierce loved baking. However, this entire thought process was a distraction from Brevyn's earlier comment.

Pierce felt a blush creeping up on his cheeks, turning them a soft pink. He hated how he flushed every time he felt slightly embarrassed. Even right now, when all he was embarrassed about was laughing at something he should probably think was horrible. He really should figure out how to stop it.

However, Pierce's train of thought crashed abruptly as a pair of lips softly pressed against his. Pierce shifted closer, immediately responding to his boyfriend's touch.

A second later, they pulled apart. Pierce flushed again, his cheeks turning a lovely shade of fusha rather than the pale pink they had been. Brevyn smiled. "You are cute when you blush."

Pierce bit his lip to try and stop the smile that was finding its way onto his lips. They spread anyway and his eyes brightened as he peered back at Brevyn.

Brevyn's blue-gray eyes were wide and happy as he shifted closer to Pierce and entertained their fingers. His hair was held back, as normal with ton's of hairspray, but Pierce's strawberry-blond curls hung just in front of his eyes. Most of the time, they hid the baker's expression from Brevyn. But Brevyn was having none of that.

He slowly tucked Pierce's curls back so that he could see Pierce' hazel eyes. Currently, they were gazing intently back at him, occasionally interrupted as Pierce blinked. Brevyn barely had time to laugh quietly before Pierce was kissing him back.

Just as everything was starting to heat up, making both of them quite happy with their situation there was a ding.

Brevyn moaned as Pierce slid away from the common room's couch. All of Windsor minus Brevyn had left for the snowstorm. Pierce had arrived shortly afterwards and the two had been cuddling, talking, joking around, and most recently finally getting somewhere until the damn cupcakes interrupted. Again. "Just leave them."

"I'll be right back. I just have to make the fridge."

"Frosting does not need to be made. The cupcakes can be sugary and light muffins. I need you now." Brevyn mumbled but it was pointless as the object of his desire had already slipped into the kitchen. Brevyn sighed closed his eyes, trying to convince himself that if he didn't move, Pierce would come back. A second later, he stood and followed Pierce into the kitchen because he would be happier in there watching Pierce bake.

* * *

Damien motioned with one lightly gloved hand for Keaton and Luke to follow after him. The three of them had been sent by Peter in order to cause more chaos than normally filled Windsor while the house's occupants threw harmless snowballs at the rest of the Stuarts. It was a lovely plan in Damien's opinion. It involved a decoy, and then some damage that wouldn't be traced back to him. Wonderful. Except that he was frozen.

Keaton silently followed a foot behind Damien, his dark hair blending into the shadows as they found their way around Windsor's blocky exterior and into the patch of trees off to the side. Although most of the bushes had shed their leaves in the weeks prior to the snow, several of the trees were tall evergreens. In the shade, the temperature dropped sharply and all three boys found themselves shivering within a few seconds. "Someone… someone go." Damien managed to spit out around his clenched teeth.

Luke began to lift himself nimbly into the tree, but after a second he made a face as he got a face-full of branch. The prickly leaves scrapped along his cheeks, leaving them stinging as Luke blinked rapidly in response, trying to make sure his eyes were clear. "Damien, are you sure there… there isn't a better way into the house?"

"What, you want to just walk in the front door? No way. Luke, just climb." Damien's voice was overloaded with sarcasm.

Luke sighed and muttered a couple choice words under his breath before hoisting himself further up the tree. Just as his form disappeared into the branches, Keaton followed. He too disappeared without a trace into the branches. That left Damien to follow and try to avoid making a fool of himself as he tried to keep the spiny leaves away from his face and clothing.

* * *

Joey grumbled as he wandered around the inside of Stuart. Everyone else was outside. Most were trying to ward of Windsor's snowballs as the overly enthusiastic boys tried every form of launching their snow ammunition at Stuart's analytical boys. Joey had seen normal throws, sling shots, marshmallow guns being put to a different use, buckets, and he was sure there were other methods being employed. But he had seen all of this from _inside_. Because Joey couldn't do any harm from inside apparently.

As Joey found his way though the empty common room and into the just as empty kitchen he was hit with a blast of cold air. It snuck its way into his sweater and cause Joey to shiver for a second. Then Joey sighed angrily and strode to the windows, banging the old frames shut. The sound echoed around the room, bouncing off the hard surfaces and resounding in Joey's head.

It just aggravated him more. And that reminded him of why Peter had forbade him from entering the fight. The prefect had said it in front of everyone too. He had pointed out that Joey hadn't taken his mediation and was therefore "possibly harmful".

Joey slammed a mug onto the counter before tugging one of Stuart's ever-present coffee makers. The container came free and the coffee swished around inside the glass. Joey rolled his eyes as he poured his cup full of the steaming liquid. As he pulled the mug to his lips, Joey noticed an odd smell that he couldn't place.

It was familiar, but Joey ignored it because quite frankly he couldn't be bothered to think about odd smells right now. Right now he was just so angry and over something he shouldn't get so worked up about!

A second later Joey threw the coffee cup away from him. It's white ceramic shattered on the counter and the dark liquid flew all over the normally perfect counters and floor. The broken shards of the mug were startling against the dark colors of the rest of the room while the coffee just blended in. "What the-" Joey turned and filled a separate glass full of water. He drained the tall glass quickly, feeling the clear and tasteless water clear his throat of the previous heinous taste.

As he left the water glass in the sink Joey recognized the smell and taste. Vinegar.

There was no way he was staying inside now.

* * *

Luke sighed as he opened the box and stared at the mass of wires. Damien's fingers began to move forwards as he identified what wires he needed to disconnect. Meanwhile, Keaton was behind them as a lookout for any other students that would try to "interrupt their mission". Luke found himself sighing in his head. Like that would ever happen. Nobody would even notice until it was too late. And even then, nobody was in the house to notice.

A second later Damien had tugged a couple wires loose and was wearing a wide grin. "Done and done. Let's go."

* * *

"Oh no." The words were soft and barely made their way to Brevyn's ears. He sighed, keeping his eyes closed as he tried to nap by the snow-covered windows in the kitchen. The wooden table was normally covered in homework pages that belonged to either Brevyn or Mike and Mitch. All three loved the kitchen. Brevyn loved it because Pierce was here and Mike and Mitch loved the kitchen because Pierce's food was kept in the room.

"What is it?" His voice was louder than Pierce's and echoed around the room, bouncing off the tilted floor and hard counters.

Pierce's voice came out in a strangled mix of panic and fear. "The mixer's turned off and there are no lights on the over and my cupcakes are going to die!" Brevyn stood up as the panic in Pierce's voice registered in his mind before the words sank in. Once they did, he smiled slightly and chuckled to himself. "It isn't funny."

At that point, Brevyn realized he couldn't see Pierce. In fact, he couldn't see anything. The normally well-lit kitchen had been plunged into darkness. The bright green and red lights on the oven and microwave were even off. The snow piled against the windows prevented any sunlight from creeping into the room. There was a tiny inch of light seeping out from under the door into the rest of the house, but that was dim and Brevyn could barely even see it."Pierce, I know you could bake without looking, but did you really have to test this theory?"

"I didn't do this. The lights shut off along with everything else." Brevyn began to inch forwards, sliding his new suede boots along the floor. The grooves between the tiles hit the toe of his book softly as he moved forwards, but it helped him keep track of how fast he was moving and in what direction.

"Where are you?"

"I'm here." Well that was amazingly helpful.

"Want to keep saying something or walk towards my voice or something?"

"Say what?" Pierce's voice was shifting as Brevyn continued his own trek across the kitchen. He began to get more confident and was taking longer steps until he nearly collided with the counter. He hissed in a breath as one of his hands stung from hitting the hard granite of the counter.

"Describe where you are, or, were in the kitchen." Brevyn began to try and follow Pierce's voice, searching through the darkness using his ears as guides rather than his eyes. He didn't want to get injured and so moving slow was his best idea right now.

"I was standing closer to the fridge than to the oven. By the electrical outlet because I was mixing the now-ruined frosting together." By this time, Pierce voice was much closer and Brevyn hesitantly reached a hand out. His fingers brushed against the rough cloth of an apron. He hooked the edges of his fingers around the top of the apron and tugged Pierce's shorter form closer.

Pierce made some small noise of surprise until his arms slid around Brevyn's waist. He then leaned against Brevyn, resting his forehead against Brevyn's thin shoulders and letting just a pinch of his weight shift onto the other boy.

Brevyn's arms wrapped around Pierce, holding him close. Brevyn ignored the way Pierce's soft curls fell against his jaw, comforting and slightly ticklish at the same time. He could feel Pierce's chest expand as he took a breath, and then he could feel Pierce's warm breath ghost over his back through his thin shirt. Brevyn waited a minute, enjoying getting to hug Pierce and hold him close. Then he smiled and said softy into Pierce's ear "I love you."

Pierce smiled, his lips tugging up at the edges. Those three little words, it was amazing what they could do to his heart. Each time they found their way over Brevyn's lips Pierce felt his heart beat faster and his body react to the idea that someone could love him for being… himself. Someone could love all of him including, and partly because of, the fact that he was gay, rather than be repelled by that side of him. It made his head spin and his made his stomach do flips. Especially when he remembered that he felt the exact same way towards the beautiful boy he was hugging, and who had first said those three tiny words that made all the difference in the world. "I love you too." He whispered, knowing the fourth word couldn't begin to explain how much more he loved him.

* * *

Tristan found himself standing between Windsor and Stuart. Actually, he was mostly between Windsor and Joey. The blond Stuart had thrown a snowball that had a bit of ice in it at the Windsors. . It had bounced pretty harmlessly off of Roger, but Windsor was upset either way. Tristan was not at all surprised, but wished that the younger winger could avoid irritating other people for a day. Not to mention that the Windsors were so crazy that shouldn't be taking any offence at one of the occasions this was turned back on them. However, they usually avoided almost hurting someone in favor of hilarious pranks. "Hanovers I would love a helping hand."

Hanover immediately reacted to its command. Joey found two Senior Hanover boys on either side of him, while the rest of them dispersed within the other two houses where they could stop any fights that might break out. Their calm presence helped ease most of the tension, and Tristan felt his muscles relax and his posture fall into a more comfortable stance. "Now. Joey, appoligize."

"No, it was war. And they put vinegar in our coffee makers."

"You can't prove that." Link yelled, his head popped out from behind Mike, or Mitch… Tristan couldn't tell them apart for the life of him. Whichever Brightman it was shoved Link back behind him and then grinned in an unnerving way at Tristan. He sighed.

"Shut up all of you." But all Tristan could think was "Coffee? Really? You know that is the worst thing you could do… you don't take away their drug." He pinched his nose before hearing crunching snow. A second later and Eric and Peter had found their way towards their fellow prefect.

"Hey." Eric greeted him with a wide grin that easily portrayed Windsors generally relaxed demeanor towards all things chaotic.

"Hello." Peter was glaring and Tristan knew he was thinking that the coffee was too far. He tolerated the pranks, and threw a few brilliant ones of his own back at the other house, but Peter really just wanted a great GPA and to get out and to college without a mark going on his record.

"You know he has no control. Blame whatever Windsor actually put that in your coffee." Tristan prevented Peter's next few comments. When Peter looked like he was still going to argue, Tristan stared at his friend and raised his eyebrow. "Don't say anything unless you are telling your house to back down."

Peter sighed and just took a deep breath, folding his arms and staring at Tristan evenly. Tristan smiled, just the tiniest bit.

* * *

Winston sighed as he shed the layers of clothing that clung to each other and his skin after several hours outside. Several articles, such as his socks and hat, were soaked. Winston dragged them into the bathroom and hung them up, letting the water drip off and onto the tiled floor with a steady rhythm. As he walked back into the room he glanced to where Beckett was tugging on a clean shirt. "Have anything that needs to be hung up?" Beckett motioned to his bed, but Winston was already picking the pieces up and heading back towards the bathroom.

Winston was feeling much better. Admittedly, the entire day had been a big distraction from his normal pain and worry, but he was still doing all right now. Actually, he really wanted to work on his songs for Winter Fest.

Winston finished putting up all of Beckett's wet clothes on the edge of the bath where the water slithered its way into the drain before returning to his side of the room. Winston then sat down and began to dig around his stuff, drying to find a pair of fuzzy socks. People had a tendency, and by people he meant Mike and Mitch, to buy him fuzzy socks and music when he got stressed. For some reason, the combination worked, but it meant that Winston's half of the room had a large pile of socks that he never bothered to organize so they congregated in an old laundry basket. Beckett got so fed up about once every term that he folded all the socks together. Winston was never that neat. However, his music was alphabetized and took up four large bookshelves. Only one shelf on one of the bookshelves actually had books because that was what Beckett and the library were for. Winston found two pairs that were from the same brand and therefore had the same fit, and tugged them on. He then realized he was wearing one green one and one red one. "They don't match." Beckett noted with a raised eyebrow as he settled onto one of the armchairs with a textbook in hand.

"Yes, but they are Christmas colors and it is close enough to the holidays. Just a couple more days." Winston answered as he admired his feet for a second, wiggling his toes and watching the colors of the socks clash. Then he sighed and got to his feet, sitting down at his keyboard. "Are you going home for the holidays?"

"Yes. Dad has required I spend some time at home before I come to your house for New Years."

Winston softly played a few notes, trying to decide on what song to sing. "Alright. But you are still coming up early?"

"Yes."

Winston smiled. "Great. Tell Phoebe."

"You hate to be the third wheel."

"Yes. But I will if you want me along. Or I will let her have you for the few days. I know how much you miss her and I want you to spend time with her." Winston turned to look at Beckett. He was smiling in an amused fashion while trying to read his textbook. However, his eyes were not moving. "So if you don't call her and set something up for the two of you to do, I will."

* * *

"The Stuart's coffee? Really guys?" Eric was sitting in Link and Kelly's room, staring at the two 'scientists' with an expression that was torn between amusement and anger. His feet were tapping an unsteady beat on the ground while he pressed his index fingers against his temples, trying to calm down. "You know that is crossing a line." Peter had been furious earlier, and Eric was lucky that Tristan was able to intervene and keep everything calm the way he always did. Eric briefly wondered why Tristan was able to keep Hanover quieter and to rule so well while Windsor barely listened to a word Eric said. Then he realized who was in his house and stopped wondering about why they didn't listen most of the time, and wondered why they listened at all.

"Yes, but can I just point out that they took out our power?"

"We had no heat for quite a while and everyone is still freezing as it heats back up." Kelly added onto Link's question.

"Is that also not crossing a line?" Link asked, running a hand through his blond locks and letting them fall carelessly across his pale forehead. His inquisitive and sharp eyes had given Eric their full and undivided attention. And if Eric was being honest, Link's gaze had always made him uneasy. That kid was smart, and it was scary to be on the other end of his logic.

"That was also crossing a line. But we can be the bigger people and apologize because that was wrong." Eric tried to keep his voice firm. He wanted to make the boys into good men, rather than teach them that trickery was the way. Too many people already had that mentality.

"Or not." The voice that floated into the room had a twin just like it.

That voice spoke next. "Because how is that fun?"

"We have a better idea."

Eric didn't want to turn around and give them his attention. However, if the growing smiles on Link and Kelly's faces were any indication, he should try and put a stop to whatever madness was coming from their heads.

When he turned, the two blond Brightmans were standing with their Nerf guns hanging in their hands. It was an easy and natural pose to the two of them, and not unusual. However, their ideas of how to best 'entertain' themselves and the campus was not needed right now. "No."

"Come on Percy." One of them grinned and sauntered into the room.

"We won't hurt them." The other tall teen strode in after his cousin.

"And look at James and Albus' faces." Eric felt a headache coming on. Those two and their names and imaginary world drove him crazy.

"We can't let our protégé down!"

"We are protégé! Awesome!" Kelly, or Albus, grinned. He was quite fine with the idea of learning to be like the Brightmans, or the Weasley Twins as they called themselves.

"Why are we James and Albus? As in James Potter from the Marauders and Albus Dumbledore?" Link had turned his attention to the two Nerf gun-wielding pranksters that was now leaning against his wall.

"No, don't be silly."

"You are James Potter."

"But not the one you are thinking of."

"James Potter Harry's son."

"And you are Harry's other son Albus."

"Because lets' face it, with their parents history…"

"They will turn out to be trouble makers."

"And they are the next generation."

"So there you are."

"James and Albus."

"Oh no…" Eric's voice was a soft moan. He couldn't deal with this. More crazy names that would only give the rest of the world more reason to assume the occupants of Windsor were nearly liable to stage world domination. Although in reality, Eric wouldn't put it past a few of the house's residents to have a world domination plan and means to carry it out.

"Don't worry."

"It will be fine Percy."

"Why don't I trust you when you say that?" Eric remembered his last thought process and realized he had been thinking of Mike and Mitch and the rest of their family. They were all Tony Starks.

"You've known us too long?"

"But either way, you don't have to worry."

"Honestly."

"I still don't believe you." And Eric probably never would, but what else did he have to go off of?

* * *

Joey was resting on the common room couch. The tan leather on the couch was worn down from the hundreds of boys who had passed through the common room and sat on it. Therefore, it was also the most comfortable spot in the room and also Joey's favorite. His ankles were crossed, and his hands resting on his gray v-neck sweater. He was using a very large burgundy pillow with a white cross printed on the middle of it to rest his head and keep it propped up so that he could watch Damien. His green eyes were tracing the athlete around the room as he wore a path around the various boys studying in armchairs and at tables. "What is wrong with you?" Joey watched Damien pace around the common room. He had been wandering, a sure sign of worry, staring at his phone, even worse as that meant it was likely to be girl issues, and Joey had yet to hear a word out of him for an hour, which could just be withdraw symptoms from the coffee that normally kept Damien alive or a sign of something more serious.

"Nothing, nothing…" Damien waved his hand before letting his teeth rest of his lower lip as he continued to stare at his phone. Simon was supposed to text him when he landed in the airport. And right now, Damien was worried about his friend. He didn't know what was wrong, but whatever it was Julian had pulled his son from Hollywood. Although Simon escaped a couple times a year to come here, the trips were already well planed and Damien and Joey knew about their friend's arrival weeks in advance. The Larsons had never sprung up within a couple days, especially within a couple days of break. Julian must really need Simon to be here, and that made Damien wonder a few things. One, how long was Simon going to be back for? The actor was constantly busy and getting called off to film. Usually he was only at the school for a month and a half tops before leaving again. Additionally, Damien needed to know what was serious enough to bring him back. And not only serious enough in Simon's eyes, but in Julian's, his publicist, his directors, his cast members', and anyone else who had to clear Julian's schedule so he could be at school. Damien sighed again, gaze intent on his phone as he begged Simon to tell him when he was arriving.

"Clearly, it is not nothing. Even I can see that." Joey shoved himself off the couch, easily standing to his full towering height. He was staring to get a little worried. Damien didn't hide things. That wasn't his job in their friendship. Damien didn't like being out of the loop, and so he never left Simon or Joey out either.

"Really Joey, it is okay." Damien looked up once Joey was standing close. Joey was leaning over the shorter boy, his gaze searching for some clue. "You have already had a big day, just go to bed."

"I'm not going to bed like a good little boy. It is eight Damien. Nobody in their right mind is going to bed right now, or is going to be able to sleep right now. Plus, I didn't have a big day. I got a little angry and everyone else overreacted. It was a big day for them." Joey shoved one hand deep into his pockets before trying to peer at the screen upside down. It was blank right now. "Waiting for a call of impending doom?"

"Something like that." Damien muttered before sliding his phone into his pocket and out of Joey's reach and curious stare. The blond only let frustration flicker across his face for a moment before he nonchalantly turned and fell back onto the couch. His movement disrupted the pillow, but Joey couldn't be bothered to put forth the effort to fix it. He began flicking bits of paper at freshman, who had to move tables and go upstairs after ten minutes of enduring Joey's current methods of irritation. Damien tried to ignore his antics as he continued pacing around the room.

A second later Damien jumped as his pocket vibrated. He reached into his pocket and saw a new text with the name Simon Larson printed above it in blocky lettering. He scrambled to click the read button, but the message was disappointing.

_Can't get in today. Campus roads not cleared yet. Coming tomorrow. See you soon D. _

Damien had been hoping that he could find out what was happening tonight. Clearly that wasn't going to happen.

He wrote a quick reply and sent it off before letting his legs carry him towards Joey. "Stop driving the younger ones insane. You have to deal with them next year too."

"Please. They won't bother a senior. Especially me. If they know what is good for them."

"They don't bother you now if they know what is good for them."

"Exactly."

* * *

Everyone in Windsor was exhausted by that evening. The boys had continued to hang out after the snow fight, but they eventually went back to their rooms to do something else. They talked with roommates, listened to music, played music, read, did homework, danced, put together experiments, and more. And then, one by one, they dropped off to sleep in order to prepare for school the next day. They had enjoyed their snow day, but worry set in about classes and they all wanted to sleep. Except for one. He escaped quietly and found his way downstairs again.

After creating another scar that would take a while to heal, longer mentally than physically, he began to go back upstairs, walking through the now quiet house.

* * *

_Thanks for reading. Please review if you have time. I love any response or suggestions. Additionally, if you have any questions I have a tumblr account and feel free to ask there. Thank you so much. _

_Next time: Rehearsal for both Anderson boys as they prepare for Winter Fest. Additionally Simon Larson is back on campus. And brings along a bit of confusion that he has no intention of trying to clear up._

_I hope you enjoyed it!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, Dalton, or any of the songs I use. _

_I am so sorry this took so long. I kept debating about a few things though, and I always want it to work out right. And I am so thankful to all who reviewed. Send me any feedback and I will love you forever. If you have grammatical corrections, tell me where they are and I can fix it! That is always great too. Otherwise, thanks a billion to those who told me what they thought. Also, for those who said that the lineage was confusing... go visit my tumblr account (like on my profile) there is a lineage page that outlines it for you! And feel free to ask me questions, or the boys questions, there. Without further ado... Here is Chapter 5. _

* * *

Winston had been going a bit stir crazy. He had been pacing around his large dorm ever since the stressful school day ended. The last of the massive tests had been administered and the students of Dalton all released a breath. Mid years were the second hardest tests of the year, and therefore one of the most stressful times of year. The idea was that if the tests were out of the way, then everyone would have time to prepare for the influential and rich parents that would be inspecting the school. Additionally, many boys, like Winston, had to prepare for Winter Fest. All the parents would come to watch that performance, even if their son was not performing.

Winston loved performing. His natural habitat was the stage, and he was perfectly comfortable under the sweltering lights and the judging gazes of the audience. He loved the moment when he finished a song and he knew he had impressed someone. He lived for that moment of applause when everyone was focused on him.

However, Winston was not doing so hot himself. He was refusing to eat as he worried it would make his stomach upset. So he was faint and with a constant headache following him where ever he went. This had become normal by this point, and although Winston was not bothered, Beckett was still worried. Beckett would return with some of Winston's favorite foods every day and hope that Winston would eat some. Mostly, he stuck to plain foods like bagels and crackers that he knew wouldn't really bother him too much. He didn't want to run the risk of getting sick before this performance.

However the constant and distracting chaos in Windsor was not helping Winston distress. Alan appeared first. That was fine because Winston was used to the Warblers dropping in, even if it was just one of them. Alan had watched Winston flick through his music collection, play around on the keyboard, and then attack his guitar strings with energy before fleeing. Then Alan had returned with all of the food he could find in the kitchen. The result was that Winston's room had many of Pierce's baked goods around his desk, a couple bags of chips and pretzels and other similar junk on his coffee table, a cup of coffee by his bed, and a bowl of fruit by his keyboard. Shortly after that, Cian dropped by. He noticed the food and disappeared before appearing with eight water bottles. Cian then placed these in strategic locations in order to make sure Winston would see them and not become dehydrated. Brevyn then walked in, kicked Cian out, and fell onto the couch. He gazed around and laughed at the accumulation of eatable substances. That got the younger brother kicked out, but he took the food away with him so all was forgiven. Next, Mike and Mitch appeared with their usual host of socks and slippers. Winston found the alligator slippers that ate his feet entertaining, but then felt obliged to join in a Nerf gun war. After all, the Weasley Twins had to be appeased somehow and they had helped "Harry" to stop worrying. However, when he tried to start it, Mike and Mitch just forced him to sit and play the guitar before quietly leaving him alone.

Which just confused Winston and made him panic about a larger pranks being on the horizon. Especially with all the people, including Mike and Mitch's real twins, that were coming to visit.

The result of all of this chaos was Winston leaving Windsor for the Warbler's Hall. He had crossed by the South and Main, ignoring the chill in the air, and into the main building. There, he took a right into the classroom halls. After a few more steps, it was another right and Winston was in the safety of the Warbler's hall.

There, Winston had taken one of the guitars in the hall and began to absently play songs he knew by heart. He let his fingers press down softly on the strings before flicking a few of them and casting their sound into the room. It echoed, bouncing off the large room that was normally full of his fellow singers and their perfectly trained voices.

However, it was empty right now. Winston was left feeling alone, but relived. He just couldn't deal with people after the events in Windsor. Life was crazy enough as is.

Yet Winston couldn't escape the fact that he was still faced with the major issue of what to sing at Winter Fest. He had been trying to decide on what to sing for weeks. And now he had it narrowed down two or three songs. He had been alternating between them for the past few days.

Winston began strumming, starting one of his options for Winter Fest.

_I want to darken in the skies_

_Open the floodgates up_

_I want to change my mind_

_I want to be enough_

_I want the water in my eyes_

_I want to cry until the end of time_

_I want to let the rain come down_

_Make a brand new ground_

_Let the rain come down_

_Let the rain come down_

_Make a brand new ground_

_Let the rain come down tonight_

Winston let his fingers continue their natural path around the neck of the guitar, changing the notes so that they matched and flowed with the song. He felt his own eyes tear up and wished that he could just let them fall. But for some reason, Winston couldn't let that happen. That would just open a dam of all the stress and frustration he was feeling right now. The issue was that it was towards his own body and its inability to keep up with life.

_I hold on to worry so tight_

_It's safe in here right next to my heart_

_Who now shouts at the top of her voice_

_Let me go, let me out, this is not my choice_

_And I always felt it before_

_That the world was filled with much more_

_Than the drowning soul I've learned to be_

_I just need the rain to remind me_

Winston's eyelid drifted shut to settle his dark eyelashes on his cheek as he played. He didn't need to look at the strings. He only needed to listen. Plus, if he kept his eyes closed the stinging sensation that meant he was nearly crying dissipated, little by little.

_I want to darken in the skies_

_Open the floodgates up_

_I want to change my mind_

_I want to be enough_

_I want the water in my eyes_

_I want to cry until the end of time_

_I want to let the rain come down_

_Make a brand new ground_

_Let the rain come down_

_Let the rain come down_

_Make a brand new ground_

_Let the rain come down tonight_

All of a sudden there was clapping from the other side of the room and Winston shot out of his seat, heart hammering.

* * *

A car sped along the slick roads that lead to Dalton Academy. It was a familiar path for the two occupants inside of it, but the trip was slightly uncomfortable.

Simon stared out the tinted windows of the car. The world looked darker from his point of view as he sat, curled up in a button down shirt, sweater, and jeans. Sunglasses were hooked onto his shirt. Everything about his appearance was perfect in case he and his dad ran into the public, which always seemed to happen when they were together. It was apparently too much for the publishers and paparazzi to take, having Hollywood's two biggest male leads together. Add in the fact that they are father and son, with a strong family history that the public knew well, and that is just a bonus.

After a second, Simon's fingers slid over the screen of his music player, changing the song. The light illuminated his face before he softly pressed the button that shut the light off and let him alone with the lyrics and his thoughts.

On the other side of the car Julian was sitting up properly and staring at the window. But unlike his son, he was not staring out the window, but at the reflection cast in it. He observed Simon's thin form as it pressed back into the seat. Why hadn't he noticed before? Now Julian was at a loss as to how to help Simon find his way out of this hole, and he hoped Dalton could do it for him. Plenty of boys had found a kind of sanctuary in Dalton, each boy for his own reasons. Julian certainly had.

The car passed through the gates into Dalton. They were tall, old, wrought iron gates with swirling patters that arched and formed the letter D on each gate. The tips towered high above the actors' heads as the gates were opened and they zoomed in. Their pointed peaks drove at the sky, piercing the blue that had won over the sky for the day.

The clock down and front of the Dalton Building faced the Larsons and their driver as they approached. The brick building was long and most of the lights were off in the classrooms. After all, their plane had gotten in at four, it was five now, and so classes had been out for a while.

Simon slid his phone out of his pocket while putting his iPod into his bag. The touch screen of his phone came to life as his fingers brushed against it, lightly as always. Another couple soft swipes and Damien's face was playing across the screen while Simon dragged the phone to his ears. It rang a few times, and Simon could picture Damien stumbling out of his desk as he searched for the phone amongst athletic supplies and endless piles of paper. Then someone picked up. "Hello?"

"D."

"Simon! Are you here?"

The car slowed before rolling to a stop right in front of the doors. "Yes. I'm on campus. Have to talk to a few people as always, and this might take a bit longer. But I'll come find you when I'm done."

"Okay, Joey and I will wait."

Simon glanced over at his dad, who had shifted out of the car and was observing the school from behind his sunglasses. "I'll find Joey later. First I have to talk to you."

* * *

Pierce slipped around the exquisite fountain that marked the middle of the South and Main. The bright light reflected off the water that swished its way around the confines of the large fountain. The glittering reflections showed off the blue sky and when Pierce walked closer, his own reflection stared back at him.

As he continued to walk around the fountain he glanced back at the main entrance and caught sight of a famous portrait. He smiled, glad that Simon was back home. No doubt Stuart had missed him, in addition to some other boys around campus.

Pierce hopped up the worn steps towards the auditorium. As he slid in through the doors he found himself in the back of the dark cavernous room. The house was full of plush red seats that had houses some of America's, and the world's, more influential parents. They came to see their sons on the stage, to be entertained, and to socialize. The walls of the theater were beautifully carved and murals were painted around by some of Dalton's old students. A long black beam held the massive lights that pointed down on the stage, where a single person was leaning down on his knees. The large stage was well lit and Brevyn was standing off to the side, tapping on the screen of his Ipod. A thin wire ran from the tiny music player and behind the stage. From there, Pierce knew the music then found its way to the speakers and gave Brevyn something to dance too.

Pierce frequently snuck into the auditorium to watch Brevyn dance. His boyfriend's grace was captivating, and Pierce had to see it at least once a week. It made Pierce happy and made him feel like he was falling in love all over again.

Pierce quietly tiptoed his way towards some seats, watching his feet to make sure he didn't trip or let his hip collide with the back of the seat. After a couple minutes he settled into a seat directly in the middle of the auditorium.

By this point, Brevyn was shifting away from his iPod and into a perfect position. His head was high, his shoulders held back with perfect posture, and the rest of his body relaxed as he waited for the music to begin. Pierce was the tense one, waiting to see what dance Brevyn would do. He was always enthralled and hypnotized by the way Brevyn managed to traverse the expanse of the stage in a series of graceful and natural looking movements that would have been challenging for many of the students.

_Loving you is elementary_

_It's easier than 1-2-3_

_I passed school so consequently_

_It's coming so naturally_

_So A is for all that you've done for me_

_Being with you is the only place I want to be_

_Seeing you is the only thing I want to see_

_Cause loving you is easy_

_One cause you're the only one for me_

_Two is you and I and I hope you agree_

_Three is for the words that you're making me speak_

_I love you it's so easy_

Brevyn twirled and leaped his way around the stage, taking Pierce's breath away and making his heart beat fast. Brevyn seemed entirely focused on the footing and the way his body moved. However, he had no trouble as he shifted over the familiar setting. His feet didn't slip and his arms didn't stray from their positions.

_So A is for all that you've done for me_

_Being with you is the only place I want to be_

_Seeing you is the only thing I want to see_

_Cause loving you is easy_

_One cause you're the only one for me_

_Two is you and I and I hope you agree_

_Three is for the words that you're making me speak_

_I love you it's so easy_

Pierce slowly stood and began inching forwards. He didn't want to surprise Brevyn and cause him to stop dancing, but he wanted to get closer. So he slowly moved forwards along the rows, never letting his gaze shift from the dancer on stage. He wanted to be as close to his love as possible.

_It's easy_

_It's easy_

_It's easy_

_Oh loving you is easy_

_The hardest part was finding you_

_But once I did I knew_

_Oh, I knew_

_My love let me count_

_Let me count_

_Let me count the reasons why_

Pierce finally noticed that Brevyn had been placing an object down each time he spun around the stage and stopped a certain distance from the very center. However, since Pierce had moved up closer to the stage he couldn't see what the objects were or how they were being arranged. Then he caught a glimpse of a rose peaking out from a bag clipped onto Brevyn's hip by a belt. Several blooming roses were tucked carefully into it, and Brevyn's fingers ghosted over them as he softly placed each one on the floor as he spun around the figure he was creating.

_So A is for all that you've done for me_

_Being with you is the only place I want to be_

_Seeing you is the only thing I want to see_

_Cause loving you is easy_

_One cause you're the only one for me_

_Two is you and I and I hope you agree_

_Three is for the words that you're making me speak_

_I love you it's so easy_

_It's easy_

_It's easy_

_It's easy_

_Oh loving you is easy_

Brevyn stopped in the middle of the stage. The bag was empty as he stayed deep into a curtsy-like position. Then his fingers fluttered and he stood, glazing around him.

Pierce smiled hesitantly, gazing upward from under his eyelashes as he said "That was amazing."

Brevyn jumped back two feet before his gaze landed on Pierce and he grinned. His dark hair was pushed back away from his face and Pierce could see how flushed he was from the hot lights. "Thanks love." Brevyn motioned to the stairs and Pierce headed over. When he reached them, Brevyn grabbing his hand and tugged Pierce up onto the stage with him. "Just felt like dropping by?"

Pierce nodded. "I love watching you dance."

Brevyn grinned and bumped his hip into Pierce, causing the smaller boy to blush and laugh before bumping Brevyn back. That action reminded him of the small bag. "Why were you putting roses down?"

Brevyn blushed and nodded his head at the floor. Pierce looked down and noticed that they were arranged in a heart and he was now standing at the very tip of the bottom. Pierce smiled as his gaze traced the outline made by the green stems and red petals. "I was going to dance this at Winter Fest, but now you have seen. So I still might, but if I can come up with something else…"

Pierce blushed an every brighter shade of red. "I didn't mean to ruin your plans!" He started to shift away, but Brevyn tugged him back again, tightening his hold on Pierce's hand. He let his other hand rest against Pierce's waist as he laughed quietly. "It is quite alright. This way, you got to see it from the audience rather than backstage. Since it is for you."

* * *

Simon nodded again as Dean Ramsey made him promise to talk to someone if it got bad enough. All he felt like doing was sitting behind a locked door that nobody could break through. It didn't matter what he was doing there, just so long as nobody else was there to make him promise to ask for help if he needed it. He didn't need any help, he needed them to go away. The more they asked him if he was alright, the more the actor wanted to scream at them to leave him alone. However, he was able to remain calm on the outside and nod because that was what they expected. It was easy enough for him, it was just like reading from a script.

"You may go call Peter." He nodded again and stood up from the plush armchair that was to the right of Dean Ramsey's large desk. His Dad remained seated on the other armchair, his hands folded in his lap. When Simon glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, Julian smiled.

"Thank you Dean." Simon turned and walked from the room where his shoes sank an inch into the soft carpet with every step. His fingers locked onto the cold handle as he opened the door, sliding into the hallway. Simon shut it behind him, letting his fingers shut it quietly. Dean Ramsey was already talking to his Dad about arrangements and the winter break that was going to happen in a couple days. However, Simon felt if he would die if he was sent straight home after what happened on set. It also wouldn't make sense to the public, for him to leave so suddenly, unless Simon used the excuse of needing to go back to school for a while. Then it worked.

Simon took a deep breath and pushed back the mist that was rising in his eyes. He was in control. That was what he had been trained and raised to do since before he could walk and talk, literally. Now he was leaning against the familiar wooden wall, and the engravings were sharp against Simon's shoulder blades. He leaned off the wall and took two steps away so that he was standing comfortably in the familiar hallway. Dalton was a comfortable home in Simon's mind, and this was one of the first times he was uncomfortable within the school's fence. He took another deep breath and set a smile on his face and forced his eyes to brighten. Then he pulled his phone from his pocket, feeling the thin edge catch on his pocket before he shifted it away.

Then he pressed one of the keys and Peter's face appeared. Two rings later and the senior picked up. "What's up?"

"Hello to you too Peter."

"Simon! How are you doing? I didn't know you were back."

"I'm fine. Dean Ramsey and my Dad want to talk to you."

There was pause. This had never happened before and Simon could feel Peter's confusion radiating through the phone.

"What's wrong?"

"Please don't do that right now Peter. That is why you need to come, so they can tell you." Simon could already hear Peter shifting around and moving towards the door.

"Okay. See you in a minute Simon."

Simon heard the line disconnect and he pulled the phone from his ear before pressing some more numbers. Damien's face popped up again. It only took one ring before Damien picked up, and Simon knew he must have been waiting for the call. "Hello?"

"Hey D."

"Simon! Are you here?"

"Yes. Peter is coming, come along."

"Okay Simon."

* * *

Damien closed his door, making sure he heard the lock slide into place. He hated it when people assumed they could borrow or touch or breath on his stuff. It didn't work that way, it was his and not theirs for a reason.

He turned and began to head towards the stairs leading down to the main floor of Stuart, but a tall blond teenager fell into step with him. "Where are you going?" Damien glanced over.

Joey knew Simon just as well as he did. They had been friends for a long time, since before the three of them could remember. There are pictures of them all sitting together at their various birthdays. When Simon was in his very first movie, Joey and Damien were at the premier to watch it with him. They laughed when Simon had his first interview and stumbled over how to answer some of the questions. But when Simon found them and was upset about his mistakes and worried that everyone would be unhappy with him, Damien and Joey were there to cheer him up with games and jokes. That was when the three had drenched the entire backstage area of the Ellen show with water guns. There was photographic evidence and whenever Simon went on to give her an interview Ellen brought it up and showed the pictures of all three boys shooting each other. Joey and Damien always made sure to watch those interviews. When they reached middle school Damien got shoved around by some of the older kids. It was the first time that Joey got really angry, and the result was two broken noses, lots of blood and some angry parents. Additionally, Damien ending up taking his father's advice and started playing sports. Joey always came to watch Damien's games, and Simon came along when he was home at Dalton and not several states away on set. When Joey was first told he had to take medication, Simon came up with the idea of taking it with a spoon of ice cream so that it didn't taste so bad. It was the only way Joey would take his medication until Simon left for the second time in their sophomore year. Then Joey just stopped taking the medication all together and now every day was a battle over the small vial of pills. However, Damien kept ice cream in Stuart just in case the day came when Joey would start taking his medication again.

During each of those hard times, all three of them had relied upon each other in order to get through it. But for some reason, Simon didn't want Joey there. It was very unusual, partly because Joey and Simon had a special history that was different from Damien and Simon's.

"I'm going to the main building."

"Why?" That was just the question that Damien had wanted to avoid. He couldn't lie. Not convincingly. Not to Joey.

"I forgot my sweater."

"No you didn't, it is in your bag."

Oops. "Erm… not that one. The blue one."

"You have a blue one?"

Joey knew he and Simon really well. From their favorite foods to the clothes they owned to their deepest fears. Even if Simon didn't want Joey to come, it didn't matter. The three of them went through everything together, and they would get through this together too.

* * *

Winston leaned his head back, squishing his curls against the back of the leather couch. His knees were pulled up to his chest as he tried to not move.

After he was surprised by Miss Marinelli's clapping he had stood up too fast and blacked out. He hadn't fainted, but had just had to sit down and curl up until he could focus on the world again. And now he didn't want to get up. The blacking out was probably the effect of not eating anything more than half a bagel each day for the past four or five days. However, if he ate, Winston was worried he would feel sick and so he pretty much avoided that all together and just didn't eat.

"Winston, what's wrong?" Miss Marinelli was sitting down next to her pupil with her legs folded under her. Her long hair was tied back in a ponytail.

"I'm just really tired and stressed. Don't worry about it." Winston answered smoothly, while trying to decide if he was okay to stand up. The black spots that sent his mind swirling had long since disappeared and he decided it was high time he work on moving towards the guitar or piano. After all, he had to figure out what song to sing and he might as well figure it out now. Winter Fest was in two days, and he would have to rehearse the song many times before then.

"Are you sure that is all that is going on Winston?" She had seen her fair share of stressed boys. Usually, the most stressed were in Stuart. She had even seen a few of the boys pass out after doing several all-nighters and drinking only coffee. It was not that unusual by the end of the last week of finals. But this felt different. "Because if you need to talk about anything…"

"I'm fine." Winston grinned, flashing a stage smile in her direction. It seemed a little rough around the edges, but they had just finished up with midyears and Winston was relying on that. Nobody would look to closely as long as he had that card to play.

Winston shifted his weight, leaning back against the couch and onto his arms as he shoved off the ground. A second later he was standing straight up with his feet firmly planted on the ground. His eyes were focused on his teacher and he didn't waver at all.

Miss Marinelli gracefully got to her feet, heels clicking against the ground as she steadied herself against the arm of the couch. "Just know that if you need to talk, I'm here alright?" Winston nodded. Then Miss Marinelli's phone went off and she glanced downward. A text flashed across the screen and she frowned. "I have to go Winston. See you at rehearsal later."

She started out of the hall with a purposeful stride, taking long steps. She quickly reached the steps and double doors, but as she passed through them she called back. "That song sounded wonderful Winston."

He smiled sadly before drifting towards the guitar again. That was where he was most comfortable.

* * *

Damien walked into the main hall after leaving the South and Main. His gaze traveled over the familiar ornaments and decorative benches before landing on the slim figure leaning against one of the large pillars.

Simon looked different. He was thinner for a start. His button down shirt hung loosely over his shoulder blades and his pants hung lower on his hips, which left the bottoms of the jeans to brush against the floor in a manner that usually irritated Simon. And his posture wasn't as tall and in control as normal. His eyes were closed, something that the actor rarely allowed in public due to the large number of cameras that followed him everywhere. Sleeping or appearing tired in public was a sign of weakness that Simon would never indulge in. And his dark hair swept over his ears and eyebrows, a little longer than the popular style. It was just enough to keep magazines and stylists talking, but close enough that it wasn't considered outlandish.

"Simon!" Joey's voice was ecstatic as it rang around the large hall. Damien's gaze shifted to Joey for a split second. He saw the ice blue eyes melt to a Caribbean azure. Joey's cheeks pinked and his entire posture shifted as he quickened his pace. Joey was always moodier when Simon wasn't at Dalton. Therefore, the entire campus was happier with the actor at home where he could ease Joey's issues and strains in addition to provide the final piece to Damien's world. With Simon home, Stuart functioned more normally and not like they were missing a part of them. And therefore, everyone else functioned better by extension.

Damien then looked back at Simon.

Normally, Simon had the same reaction. Hard brown eyes shifting to a warm chocolate color as he smiled and let his guard down. The face the public saw was Simon's second acting job, and it was around Damien and Joey that he finally relaxed.

However, the guard was up now. The eyes stayed frozen and if anything Simon looked exactly like he was still on set.

Damien slowed down, but Joey just missed these details in his excitement. He wrapped his long arms around Simon, pulling the actor close. Joey's lips brushed the top of Simon's head in a rare gesture of affection that was only ever displayed towards Simon when he returned from a particularly long absence. It reminded Damien of watching someone take in a deep breath of air after trying to hold a note for so long they turned red. The relief on Joey's face was like that, while Simon looked like he was still holding the note.

Damien was worried that Simon's anger at Joey's appearance would cause him to ignore the sensitive singer, even if the singer would say he was anything but sensitive about Simon Larson.

Yet even in his angry state, Simon reacted to Joey. His arms slid around Joey's neck as the taller blond pulled him close. As Joey's lips ran over his hair, Simon's eyes closed softly and his arms tightened. Then they opened as both boys began to release each other. The dark brown orbs glared at Damien, blaming him for Joey's presence. Clearly, the actor felt that for some reason Joey did not need to know what was going on. The only reason Damien could think of that Simon would be like that was if it was about their painfully obvious love for each other, or if it was something that would make Joey angry.

"Simon—"

"Why is he here?"

"Thanks, that makes me feel so loved Simon."

"No really. Damien, why did you bring him along?"

"Because I thought he might be able to—"

"I can't… you just… it… this isn't…"

Miss. Marinelli stepped into the hallway then. She smiled at the three boys, ignoring the obvious tension that had taken over the hall. "Simon! I'm so glad to see you are back."

Simon politely nodded, eyes not wavering as he returned her gaze with a perfect imitation of polite intrigue.

Then a door clicked and Simon turned to see his Dad walking steadily toward them from Dean Ramsey's office. His father looked tired. But when he saw Joey, his Dad set his course for the blond and after a moment Simon's Dad was standing right behind his love. At the same time, Peter entered from the main doors leading out to the rest of the Dalton campus. He was clutching his bag and a coffee cup. Simon immediately thought of how Eric, Tristan and Peter had coffee together nearly every day to catch up. They meet at Stuart, get some coffee from the lovely machines and then go find somewhere else away from their houses to meet and talk. It is their break from being prefects.

It was enough to remind Simon that he really isn't in Hollywood anymore.

He wasn't even around people who will pick up a camera or ask for his autograph.

That one simple fact of life at Dalton was enough to remind Simon that he was home.

Simon let his fingers crawl forward the few inches to where they could link with Damien's. Damien glanced down at the thin fingers that were clutching his softly and with just enough pressure to make him squeeze back. "Damien, lets go to… erm…"

"You can use my office for whatever you need." Both boys glanced up at the Warbler's Instructor and smiled gratefully at her.

"Thanks." Simon whispered before tugging Damien away down the hall. Their footsteps echoed as their low voices drifted around. But the words melded together and Joey couldn't make out any of the words.

However, he did start to move forwards towards his friends before Uncle Julian's hand gripped his shoulder. "We need to talk."

"About what?" Joey's gaze flashed up to Julian's dark brown eyes.

"I've heard you aren't taking your meds."

Joey flinched as he heard the door into the Dean's office click as Miss. Marinelli left the hall. "So?"

* * *

Pierce didn't have a history with dancing. In fact, he had been taught all the normal dances as a child. But anything that was not required to know in order to attend a formal ball and to properly represent his family had been left out of his educational experience. And there was certainly no way his father would have ever allowed him to look into dance lessons.

But now he had his own personal teacher. And Pierce was perfectly happy to let Brevyn guide him through twirls and other dance maneuvers that Pierce had only ever seen. Currently, Brevyn's hands were sliding around Pierce's waist and helping to keep him steady as he tried to do a few turns in a row and spot. When he laughed and fell over because he was so dizzy, Brevyn caught him and then helped both of them to sit down. "You were doing great until the falling bit!" Brevyn exclaimed with a wide grin. Pierce made a face, sticking his tongue out in what he thought was Brevyn's direction. In reality, it was just into the audience. Brevyn smiled and shifted a little closer to his dizzy baker. "Really though. We should work on dancing more often. Because clearly, you have the talent and just lack the education."

"Just like you lack the drive in the kitchen."

"No, I lack the ability to avoid burning things. But thank you for the thought."

Pierce just laughed and leaned back against Brevyn. He allowed his boyfriend to slip his arms around his waist as they cuddled in a corner of the stage. "I'll teach you to bake someday."

"I highly doubt that." But Brevyn really wouldn't bet against it. Pierce had a way of making things happen eventually, usually by bribing people with his cupcakes.

* * *

Simon felt Damien's arms slide around him in a hug while Simon tried to smile. "Hey… don't worry. I just… Dad made me promise to tell some people so that… so that you guys would watch out for me." Damien nodded before pulling away and smiling sadly.

"I can help. And I promise to not tell Joey." Simon released a breath he didn't realize he had been holding.

"Thanks." And all of a sudden, his stomach was full of butterflies at the prospect of finding Joey and jumping into his arms.

Joey glared at his Uncle Julian, who glared right back. "Dad doesn't take his."

"Your Dad is an idiot. I've been telling him that for decades and he is such an idiot he can't figure it out."

That made Joey smile. At least they agreed on one thing. "I don't like them."

"Heard that argument. My reasoning, you have to or else you run the risk of hurting those closest to you. Would you rather be uncomfortable for a while, but eventually return to being yourself, or risk hurting and loosing say… Damien? Or Simon?"

* * *

_Thanks for reading. _

_Review if you have time. Or ask me any questions you have! I will answer to the best of my ability. _

_Also... next chapter is Winter Fest. For those who have read Dalton... be ready to see familiar faces again! All the Dads are back. _

_Thanks. I hope you enjoyed it. _


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, Dalton, or any of the music. _

_Hello again! Life is still busy, so it is hard to find time to write. School ends in a few weeks though, so hopefully things will move faster from that point! Also this is a longer chapter, so that is good I hope. _

_Thank you to everyone who reviewed and sent me messages! They made me really really happy and encouraged me to write more! If you ever have any comments or questions for me or the boys, feel free to leave them in a review or on tumblr. Also, tell me about any errors you find, as I can go back and fix them. Thanks to all and enjoy!_

* * *

Brevyn woke up to his phone ringing. The obnoxious sound was irritating at any time of the day. In fact, Brevyn picked the most irritating sound he could find so that he would always hear it and pick it up. That sound happened to be Beckett trying to hit a high c. He couldn't do it, as his bass voice didn't even reach half way into the tenor range much less a soprano. Regardless of the fact that it was a failed attempt, and really because it had been, that _noise_ was now Brevyn's ring tone, and it was irritating enough to drag him away from a lovely dream involving a certain Hanover.

Brevyn threw his arm out and happened to hit his phone. His mind grappled for a second with the memory of how to make his fingers respond, but then they closed around the phone and he pulled it closer. He stared at the screen as it lit up the darkness. The image of his Uncle Shane was staring down at him, lips split into a goofy grin. And Beckett's voice was still blaring.

"Shut it off," Cian called and then Brevyn was hit with a pillow that had been thrown from across the room. The large square and squishy projectile nearly dislodged the phone from Brevyn's hand, but his fingers tightened around the thin electronic that continued to give the two cousins headaches.

"Well it is your Dad," Brevyn answered before he pressed the green answer button. The next second, Shane's overly enthusiastic voice was filling Brevyn's still sleepy mind.

"Brev! How are you?"

"I'm good Uncle Shane. How are you?"

"Good. Just about to get into the taxi to take Reed and I to Dalton." Brevyn sat up and flicked a switch that turned on all the lights in the room. Cian's sleepy eyes poked out from behind his dark covers and Brevyn motioned with his hands that they should start getting up. Cain raised an eyebrow in question, his dark curls in a wild halo around his head.

"Right… Winter Fest is today." Cian rolled out of his bed, feet hitting the cold carpet and making him shiver. He shoved them into the closest pair of shoes he could locate. Then began to throw object into suitcases, paying no mind to who's stuff was being thrown into which suitcase. While Cian was panicking, Brevyn was calmly talking and standing up from his bed. "I can't wait to see you. But… that can't really be why you called?"

"Oh, you always remind me that you have Kurt's ability to get straight to the point. But I was going to say—"

A small conversation occurred on the other line, breaking up Shane's response. A few stern words that sounded like they were asking for the phone floated through the line, and eventually there was some shuffling as the phone was handed over.

"Brevyn?" A softer and calmer voice filled the phone as Shane's voice could be heard complaining loudly from the other end.

"Hello Uncle Reed."

"Hello dear. As much as I would love to chat, we really called to ask if we could talk to Cian. He has turned his phone on silent again…" Brevyn raised his eyebrow and pointed to Cian's phone. Cian's fingers fumbled as he tried to turn his phone on. A second later and Cian's face was lit up by the screen. Apparently, he had forty-six missed calls; all from the same number. "Yeah, he is right here."

Brevyn handed his phone over to his cousin, who sat down on the couch and curled in on himself as he began to talk.

A second later Cian made a face and tugged the phone away from his ear. "Hang on Dad… Brev, your phone is beeping… popular this time of morning apparently."

Brevyn took his phone and saw that he had another incoming call. He pressed a button, and his Uncles got put on hold as Pierce's voice floated over the speaker.

"Brevyn! I need you to come to one of the studios now. With your dance stuff. I have an idea."

"Okay, give me a second."

Brevyn threw the phone back to Cian, who gracefully caught it and began to talk again. Then, the dancer grabbed a pair of black sweatpants and a loose gray shirt advertizing the Dalton Academy Fencing Team. It was several years old, but an incredibly comfortable shirt that Brevyn had no intention of returning to his Dad. He cast them out from the closet before shutting the door, shucking his pajamas off, and pulling the dance clothes on. His bag was by the door, and he just barely shoved his feet into his boots before launching himself out the door and into the crazy that was Dalton.

* * *

Peter walked downstairs at five in the morning to find three gleaming coffee makers still running. Someone had stayed up late. Well, he amended as he poured a large mug of the dark liquid, several someones. Not even a Stuart needed three pots of coffee at once.

However, his wondering was answered as the next second Simon, Damien, and Joey stumbled into the room.

Joey's light blond hair was drying from a shower, still sticking to his forehead and neck. His green eyes glowered with a sharp perception that cued Peter into the fact that the pills had stayed locked away in their orange container. He was wearing jeans, a button down shirt, and two different socks. His tie was thrown around his neck, and it was slowly sliding off his shoulder.

Damien was slouched against a chair, nursing a very large thermos of coffee. Whisps of steam curled up and into his face. It nearly hid the fact that his shirt was on backwards. He had dark purple and blue circles under his eyes, showing the long night and its toll on him. Damien's eyes remained shut as he clearly combated his body's desire to fall asleep right in the middle of the kitchen.

Simon had slid onto the counter. His fingers danced around the edge of his stark white cup while his feet kicked against the drawers. He was the only one who looked collected. He was wearing a clean and crisp button down, a tied tie, pressed pants, and Italian leather shoes on the right feet. His uniform jacket thrown down beside him, where the red piping stood out in sharp relief against the black granite counter and the gray color of the required pants that all Dalton Academy students had to wear. The actor always had his clothing in order. It was part of the job that he never kicked at school.

Peter raised his eyebrow at Simon, silently asking if the younger boy was okay. He nodded, dark brown eyes dim but he looked mostly all right. Just exhausted. He hid it better than the others. "Joey couldn't decide on a song."

"I did, you just weren't sure it was right," Joey complained before drinking his entire mug in one go. His red lips looked like they might stain the pale mug, but it came away clean as he swallowed the last of the steaming beverage.

"Watch it." Peter warned the temperamental blond. Joey ignored the words as he poured himself another mug. This time, he took it over to a chair before starting to drink the liquid.

"Are you ready for today?" Peter asked the group of boys.

Joey smiled grimly but nodded, thinking only of his performance.

Damien shook his head, thinking of all the parents that would be there.

Simon ignored the question, preferring to think that he didn't have to converse with his father later that day.

* * *

Beckett spun around the doorframe and into his room. He stopped, feet spread apart in order to steady himself.

Winston was collapsed onto the soft couch, staring at several pages of sheet music. He had an ear bud in each ear. But the buds were attached to different iPods, which were playing different songs. The sheet music didn't match either of the songs playing into Winston's overloaded mind.

Beckett sighed and with one smooth movement dragged all three offending objects away, while dropping a muffin and a water bottle onto his friend.

Beckett set the music players and the sheet music in his trunk. He slammed the lid shut, sending a loud crack reverberating through their room. He then locked the trunk and stuck the key in his pocket.

Winston's jaw was slack, his lips parted as he just stared at Beckett. His golden eyes were frozen, not able to comprehend what had just happened. His fingers stayed in the position they had been, holding invisible sheet music and holding one ear bud closer to his head. "That… my…"

"Your music?"

"My baby…."

Beckett rolled his eyes and sat down next to Winston. He tore a piece of the muffin, which had rolled onto the couch, and stuck it into Winston's still open mouth.

The singer gagged, shuddering as he spit the muffin onto the closest thing. Which happened to be an old history essay. "I was going to review that you know."

"Mr. Goodhop never writes comments except on the back page anyway…" Winston muttered as he unscrewed the cap of the water bottle and took a large swig. He had closed his eyes, trying to rid his mouth of the taste of the muffin and his head of its never-ending headache.

"I already read it," Beckett revised his old comment. "But you need to eat."

"After I sing. That is when I need to eat. I have had four cups of tea, five water glasses, and thee strawberries today. I will be fine."

"And by fine you mean totally not."

"By fine, I mean I will make it until the end of the performance. Then, I don't care what happens."

* * *

Joey smoothed his jacket and made sure his tie was straight. The count down was one hour until the performance. All the Warblers were due in the hall… ten minutes ago. But Joey didn't really pay attention to time.

He didn't understand why they were required to wear uniforms, as everyone would know they went to this school anyway. After all, their parents would be the only people filling the audience. And the rest of the students would be dressed in normal clothing. It was only the Warblers that had to endure But Miss Marinelli wanted them to match, and they all owned the uniform, and so that was that. There was no arguing with her once she got an idea into her head.

Joey glanced in the mirror again. His blond hair was lying flat, and his eyes were bright. The bottle of pills lay, never forgotten but purposefully ignored, behind a photograph of his dads, a hairbrush, and his toothpaste.

He was ready to handle whatever Winter Fest threw at him.

* * *

Mike and Mitch had barely stepped away from the Warbler's Hall and into the Orion Ballroom before they were surrounded by six other people.

Evan and Ethan were wearing classic suits. They had been left unbuttoned and each had two small pins attached to their lapel. One was of a royal blue shield with a sunshine-yellow slash through it, Windsor's banner. The other was of Tweedledee and Tweedledum. The pins were identical, and had both of the twins on it.

"Hello Dad." Mike and Mitch chorus together, their voices rising with the same inflections. Ethan drew Mitch closer to him, hugging his son after a few months of absence. Evan was doing the same with Mike.

"Hello son." To anyone listening, it would have been one voice. But all the Brightmans could hear two distinct voices blending to make one. "How is school?"

"Good."

"Crazy."

"As always." They said the last part in synch, but with the addition of two more voices. Mike and Mitch turned to grin at their real twins.

Michelle Brightman was a thin, blonde girl. Her bright eyes pierced Mitch's. Mitch's heart melted and his fingers moved forward to tug the girl into his arms. All of a sudden, she was air and he hadn't had any in a while. It reminded him of why his Dad and Uncle Evan never strayed more than a five-minute sprint from each other. Whenever he saw her, he realized that Mike was never going to be able to take her place. But that was okay, because Mike felt the same way about Madison. The boys and girls made do with each other when their real twin was gone.

Jennifer Brightman slipped into Ethan's arms and smiled as all four children collapsed into a hug. Gene was curled into Evan's embrace, with the same smile on her face.

They were two separate families, exactly reflected in each other.

* * *

Alan skidded through the people, trying to not bump into anyone too important. He had to find his parents before they started to purify the room… there. Alan rushed towards the entryway, where two figures were standing.

His father, Dwight Houston, was already starting to line the edges of the room with rock salt. His mother stood just off to the side, her small figure swamped by lots of flowing articles of clothing, and lots of dangly jewelry that tinkled with her every movement. It made her seem much larger than she actually was. Currently, her hands, sporting a ring on nearly every finger, were wrapped around a stack of tarot cards.

Alan tugged his phone out of his pocket and called in the prefect. "Eric?"

"Yup." The older boy answered.

"I need some help."

"With?"

"Dad drama."

"On it."

A second later, Eric, Charlie and Hope Amos strode into view.

"Hello Mrs. Houston," Hope smoothly slid into a conversation with the other lady. Hope's blond hair was curled and held away from her face, as her elegant pink dress swept the floor. Her southern accent added a gently twang onto her words and had a way of softening anything she said. Alan had already heard Brevyn say that she reminded him of Glenda.

"Dwight, hand it over," Charlie wasted no time with formalities as he marched over. One large hand was shoved deep into his pocket, while his eyes blazed at Dwight, causing the pale man to loose any color that had been in his face.

"Charlie!"

"They have it under control," Eric slid into place next to Alan. He smile, brown hair was combed back and for once Windsor seemed to still be under control.

"You can't have it! Give it back!" Dwight wailed, trying to reach the package of salt, which Charlie was holding away from the theme park owner.

"You can't have it. Nobody here needs it, we are safe and fine."

"What about my son? I need to protect my son!"

"I'm fine Dad," Alan answered, rolling his eyes and shifting back on his heels. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

"Do you see him?"

"I don't see him."

"Where is he?" A note of panic crept into the soft voice.

"I don't know! Cian?" The louder voice boomed over the heads of the other couples filling the exquisite ballroom. The smaller man was trying to look around him without tripping over his own feet or anyone else's. He was wearing a fashionable black suit from the latest Armani line. It wasn't quite available to the public, but that would never matter to a Van Kamp. Reed Van Kamp was the world most well known fashion editor, designer of women and men's clothing, and a devout father. Currently, his most important job was winning all his attention. "Shane, what if we can't find him!"

The other man stood well over a head taller than his husband. He was glancing around the room while trying to act decently calm, for Reed's sake and for the sake of everyone else in the rom. He was tucked into a light gray Canali suit. Together, the two made a very powerful, very attractive, and very worried couple.

That is, until a voice from behind them said. "I've been right here for two minutes."

Shane and Reed spun around at their son's voice. Cian was standing just behind his fathers, smiling and with one eyebrow raised. He was in uniform but he nodded towards his fathers' suits. "I like them. But didn't the ads for that just hit…"

"The media or public? Yes," Reed answered while moving forward and hugging Cian.

"Hey." Shane protested before wrapping his arms around Cian as well.

* * *

"Dad, can you call the minions off?" Wes turned around to find his son surrounded by several of the men who worked for him. Wes smiled and with a single hand movement, the men stepped away from Roger.

Roger rolled his eyes before stepping forward and hugging his Dad.

Roger was easily irritated by his Dad's minions. Just because he was a Mob Boss didn't mean he had a right to have Roger constantly surrounded.

Roger felt himself pulled in a different direction as soon as his Dad let go of him. His mother's arms tugged him closer and he smiled, giving her a hug. "How are you Mom?"

"Good. How are you? How is Dalton?" She smiled grandly, blue eyes lighting up as she talked to her son. Roger felt bad, knowing he hadn't called home often enough. Admittedly, most of their phone conversations were taped, either by his family or the police. And half the time, he knew his Dad was in the middle of something illegal. Real conversations could only be had outside of the house, or by the washing machine where nothing could be heard. It didn't exactly encourage honest conversations over electronics.

* * *

Brevyn squeezed Pierce's hand softly, hoping he was conveying a sense of calm. The smaller boy looked extremely nervous. His chocolate eyes were shifting and his cheeks were turning a brighter shade of pink by the minute. Kurt and Blaine had finally discovered that Brevyn was still with Pierce. Naturally, they had then demanded to meet their youngest son's boyfriend. Kurt had threatened to show up at school during the school day and shadow Pierce if they did not get to meet him at Winter Fest. So now, the two boys were standing in the middle of the Orion Ballroom, attempting to locate Mr. and Mr. Anderson.

"I can't do this." Pierce murmured. Brevyn had to lean closer to hear Pierce's inaudible words over the hum that all the voices in the room had created. "I can't… I just… Brevyn… please understand, I just can't…"

Brevyn tugged Pierce closer, effectively bringing them chest-to-chest. "Why?"

"I… I haven't ever told you about my parents have I?" Brevyn shook his head. He had inquired several times about Mr. and Mrs. Lovell, but so far he had only received vague responses. The most he knew was that Mr. Lovell ran some very successful businesses. However, he and his wife pretty much socialized for a living now. "Well, you know the huge chain of very small, very Catholic schools? Yeah, they run those. Own those. Believe those. And so… it took a lot for me to get to come here. Because I'm not comfortable there, where they preach that being gay is as sin and… and so… they don't exactly—"

"Brevyn!" The two were interrupted as a pair of arms wrapped themselves around Brevyn's form. The youngest Anderson was tugged backwards into his father's embrace. However, his pale eyes were wide and he refused to release Pierce's tense hand.

"Hello Dad." Kurt Anderson beamed and kissed the top of Brevyn's head. He continued to hold Brevyn close until he was forced to relinquish his hold on Brevyn so that Blaine could hug his son. Blaine softly hugged Brevyn, letting him get his breath back after nearly being suffocated by Kurt. All of this was made the more difficult by the fact that Pierce and Brevyn refused to stop holding hands. Their fingers remained firmly linked, and for Pierce it was a lifeline in the sea of confusion.

Blaine and Kurt turned their complete and utter attention to the curly-haired, brown-eyed boy who was clutching onto their son for dear life.

"And you must be Pierce." Kurt smiled widely. Blaine just smiled warmly, taking his own hold on Kurt and trying to calm his love down. He was sure Kurt was going to scare the other boy. It was hard not to recognize himself in Pierce. The panicked expression of worrying about what others would say.

"Yes. Dad and Dad, I would like for you to meet my boyfriend Pierce Lovell." As soon as the words had left Brevyn's lips, another voice chimed into the conversation.

"Pierce dear, what did he just say?" Pierce tensed and paled. All color drained from his face. His eyes closed. It took a second before he softly responded.

"Hello Mum."

"Dear… who is this?" Mrs. Lovell had long, curly, red hair. It held different shades with it, and in the light of ballroom it looked a little like fire. Her eyes were sharp, and quickly locked onto her son's hand. Her gaze then traveled up to Brevyn's face. Beside her, Mr. Lovell had yet to respond. He had noticed. Of course he had. And unlike his son, his face was becoming a brighter and brighter shade of red. His dark hair was combed back. Pierce looked almost exactly like his mother, but with his father's dark brown eyes.

"Oh, I am Kurt Anderson."

"I'm Blaine Anderson, lovely to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Lovell." The four parents shook hands with each other, but Mr. and Mrs. Lovell held back, as if trying to avoid the Andersons. Their general bodies remained a couple steps away, while the Lovells extended their arms as far as possible in order to reach the Andersons. And when they did shake hands, their hands disconnected very quickly, as if the Andersons had some infection that the Lovells did not wish to catch.

"Now dear, why are you holding hands with this boy?"

Pierce's eyes snapped open and he whirled around, ready to manage his way out of this situation. However, his father's hand connected with his cheek before a single sound had passed over his lips. Pierce ended up staring at Brevyn's tie, his eyes watering slightly. Pierce closed his eyes and muttered "My boyfriend."

Brevyn pulled Pierce closer, as if the blow had hurt him too. He raised on hand to see if Pierce's cheek was alright, but the smaller boy shook his head. Mr. Lovell's arm was pulled back, ready to strike, when Blaine calmly slid in front of Pierce. He was not much taller than the high schooler, but he was well aware about how to handle this situation. He had been there before, and he was about to stop it before it got out of hand. "Sir, you need to stop."

Behind Blaine, Kurt pressed a few buttons on his phone and a massive SOS text was sent out to many of parents who were congregated in the ballroom.

"And why do I need to do that? He is my son, I will do as I please."

"Actually, you won't." Kurt watched as David and Wes materialized beside Blaine.

Blaine grinned at them and Wes and David nodded their heads.

"Hello." David greeted his friend, smiling slightly before going back to glaring at Mr. Lovell.

"Sup." Wes grinned and then clenched his fingers into a fist. "Mr. Lovell… I think you need to leave."

"Like hell I am…"

"Mr. Lovell?" Two identical voices floated over towards the school owner. He blanched as he recognized the powerful faces of Evan and Ethan Brightman. Their ice blue eyes flashed as they found themselves standing next to Wes.

"Hey."

"Hello."

"We need to catch up."

"I hate to be rude and pull this card." Wes interrupted the formalities, reminding all of them as to why they were here. Mike, Madison, Mitch, and Michelle had materialized along with their mothers. Dwight forced his way from behind Kurt. He had his wife Romilda with him, and Alan was tagging along. Shane and Reed burst into the group, Cian in between them as they both held onto his arms.

"I don't see why you should here." David tagged onto the end and Wes nodded.

"True… but how do I put this… You should leave, or else something might happen to you." Wes smiled, and Mr. Lovell found himself feeling terrified of the power behind that grin.

"You probably don't want any of us as enemies…" Dwight began. He would know, he had seen the destructive powers of this group.

"And we can be awful." Evan and Ethan said, Cheshire Cat grins lighting up their faces.

"And this is topic hits a little close to home." Shane explained, one hand reaching out to brush against Blaine's. Blaine was staring impassively at Mr. Lovell, one eyebrow raised.

"So I suggest you go find your seat, and just enjoy the performance for the evening, while thinking about what you have done." Reed's voice employed the tone he had learned from his mother. Mrs. Lovell sprang to life, tugging on her husband's hand and trying to drag him away.

"Oh and by the way… people are beginning to stare. That was quite a public attack…" Kurt casually threw in while inching forward to link his hand with Blaine's.

The concept that other people had seen seemed to put some life into Mr. Lovell. He threw a nasty glare at all of them, before turning and hurrying away with his wife towards the seats.

Brevyn had been ignoring the conversation flowing around he and Pierce. His boyfriend, his love, was curled against him with his arms clutching his blazer. His face buried against the crook of Brevyn's neck, and he was taking in long, deep breaths. "Its okay love." Brevyn whispered softly, sliding one hand over Pierce's curls. "It will all be okay."

Pierce nodded, and after a second he looked up at Brevyn. "I have a change of songs. But I need you to just make up a dance."

* * *

Simon was wandering through the sea of parents with a comfortable stride. He didn't need to wear sunglasses at events where it would only be the normal students that inhabited Dalton, and their parents. They were either too polite to stare, or they had seen him before. Either way, Simon was just glad that he could walk through the crowd without all eyes on him.

His gaze traveled over the masses, occasionally settling on a familiar face. His Dad and Uncles were nearly here according to Derek. They got held up by a car accident and were now later, which Derek hated. Simon was sure it was not a good car ride. Uncle Logan would be angry they got held up, same with Derek, and his Dad would just be ignoring all of them.

Simon continued to make his way through the crowd. A large group seemed to have gathered in the middle of the floor, and as Simon neared he noticed Brevyn and Pierce at the center of it all. All of their friends, and their parents, were standing in a protective circle around the two at the center. But what really caught his attention was a small, Asian boy who was standing on the edge, peering in.

His dark hair reflected the golden lights above his head. His eyes were shining as he watched his friend.

And Simon decided he had never felt his heart beat that fast. He had never wanted to kiss someone so badly.

Except for once. Simon's gaze automatically shifted over the crowd and landed on some bright blond hair that made its way through the crowd. Joey was always the undetermined variable.

* * *

Tristan sighed for a second, watching as all the Hanovers conversed with everyone. The Windsors were in chaos as normal, and Eric was running around trying to control his uncontrollable house. Peter was hoping the Stuarts didn't snap due to the lack of sleep and high levels of coffee and stress that dominated them.

That made Tristan feel pretty good about his house in comparison. He was just wandering around, observing all the family interactions.

Until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Tristan turned, fingers locking around the person's wrist in a tight grip. His father had taught him some of the best fighting moves that he knew from his, apparently, not too well-mannered past. He sparred with Damien on a weekly basis.

However, he relaxed his grip as he recognized the face and the easy laugh. "Wow, Justin still teach you on breaks? You are getting better each time," Danny grinned. His eyes sparkled and his white teeth flashed at Tristan.

"Hey Dan," Tristan turned to face Danny. "Not to be rude, but why are you here? Both your boys are away at college. Remember? Cal graduated last year."

Danny rolled his eyes and leaned back, sticking his hands into his pockets. "I know. Trust me, I know they are in college. But I can't stay away. Plus, I get to watch all this chaos," Danny waved one arm around the ballroom. Tristan gazed around him again. Mr. Houston was still yelling at Mr. Amos from the corner of the room. Mr. Brightman and Mr. Brightman were talking to their blond-headed family members as they dominated a small portion of the room. A sense of energy and plotting seemed to radiate from that circle. The Anderson family was talking, probably about music. A few feet away, the Anderson-Van Kamp family was talking. Well, Mr. and Mr. Anderson-Van Kamp were talking with Cian nodded his head and smiled. Mr. Hughes and co. were surrounded by several burly looking men who were wearing dark suits. It was rather intimidating and Tristan had avoided them all evening.

"True," Tristan agreed with a nod. Then he saw Danny's face break into a grin.

"Hey, its your Dad."

Mr. Justin Bancroft walked over, with Mrs. Monique Bancroft on his arm. Tristan grinned, leaning back on his heels to see how sleep deprived his parents looked from the time change.

"Hey Dad, Mum."

They smiled, and Tristan was swept into a hug by his mother. Her dark curls smothered his face while she softly kissed his cheek. "How are you dear?" She questioned, arms sliding down his as she checked to make sure he looked healthy.

"I'm fine Mum," Tristan answered, although he let her fret for a moment more.

* * *

The Warblers had all been dragged backstage by Miss Marinelli. They were not hiding in the wings, attempting to peak out at the sea of parents that were settling themselves into the provided seats.

Winston was currently talking to Pierce and Brevyn. "You are changing your song?"

"Yes." Pierce answered with a smile. "We are not going to be doing "I'm Happy Just to Dance With You" anymore. I can't even do the Beatles properly, I just thought it was cute."

As soon as Mr. and Mrs. Lovell had walked away, everyone had tried to figure out how to handle the situation. Nobody trusted Pierce at his own home, so the only debate was about who could handle having him at their house. Everyone wanted to take the confused singer home with them. Eventually, Cian stepped in and with all the power that he had picked up from his fathers and his Grand'mere he informed everyone that Pierce would stay with Blaine, Kurt, Winston and Brevyn. After all, he knew Brevyn the best, and Blaine would understand how Pierce felt. Additionally, he would end up there for the New Years party anyway, so it would give him time to get comfortable and settled before

Nobody could argue against that, and so it was decided that Pierce would spend Winter Break with the Andersons.

"To what song?" Winston asked.

"You will see." The other two grinned at each other and Winston took the sappy expression as his cue to leave.

He wandered over towards the back of the wing, where Beckett was already holding out a water bottle. "Yes mother." Winston smiled and took a sip of the clear liquid. "Ready?"

"Probably not. Something always goes wrong. You know that."

"Winston, your on."

Winston kept his steps steady and slow as he walked out onto the stage. The beautiful grand piano had been moved on stage so that the singers could accompany themselves if so desired. Winston smiled at the audience before settling onto the bench.

His feet shifted to the petals, and his fingers found their homes on the ebony and ivory keys.

_Is it really all they say it is?_

_I'm trying to make sense of this_

_They always say_

_'Never join the Circus'_

Life had been so crazy for him lately. Everyone was telling him he had to get to a doctors stat, but he didn't get it. So he was a little sick. He always got sick to his stomach when he got stressed out, and then he got even more sick because he wouldn't eat. Sure he was fainting more the normal, and refusing to eat more than before, but it wasn't that unusual. And how was he supposed to even being to understand life around him when he was in Windsor?

_It's hard to see it from the bottom_

_When your light is still shining_

_It's time for you to hurry up now_

_'Cause you're time is rising_

_It's hard to see it from the bottom_

_When you wanna give up now_

_You gonna keep goin'_

_'Cause your time is rising_

_Oh You feel it comin' down_

_You feel it fallin' down_

_You gotta keep yourself together_

_Oh You feel it comin' down_

_You feel it fallin' down_

_You gotta keep yourself together_

He could do this. Life had been falling apart around him as of late. He wasn't eating, Beckett was stressing over life and Pheobe, and he hadn't had enough time to see how Brevyn was handling things this year. He just felt like the happy, light, start of the year was so far behind him. But he would fix it. As soon as he rested over the break, Winston would fix everything.

I_t's hard to see it from the top now_

_When the light is just blinding_

_No time to close your eyes now_

_No time for hiding_

_You gotta keep yourself together_

No more avoiding questions, or ignoring reality. Winston would make everything okay again.

Winston finished the song. Everyone was clapping before he even stood up. Winston rose to his feet, standing up fairly suddenly. And then he wasn't any more.

* * *

Mike and Mitch burst forward, Beckett only a half step behind them. Their arms scooped Winston up, and the unconscious singer was carefully moved backstage. Miss. Marinelli had grabbed a sweater from one of the other boys, and cleared a space off backstage for him. Winston was carefully set down so that his head rested on the sweater.

Tristan jumped up and away from Winston in order to let other boys fret over him. He glanced around him, and his eyes landed on Joey. The blond was staring after Winston, ignoring the fact that he was supposed to be on stage. "Joey, get on stage." Joey's eyes flashed up and landed on Tristan. The prefect was giving him no room for argument, and Joey sighed. How was he supposed to go on after that performance?

However, Joey walked on stage and smiled at the audience, assuring them that everything was alright. He could see a small group of men and women who were worrying in the back corner. Joey leaned up to the microphone and said "Everything is under control, don't worry." As he looked away from the group off to the left, he saw blond hair just as bright as his own. His father's green eyes were peering at him, some level of expectation in them. On either side of his Dad, Uncle Derek and Uncle Julian were standing. Normally Uncle Julian wouldn't come, but he hadn't gone home after dropping Simon off.

Joey let his fingers dance over the piano as he purposefully ignored the audience that was watching him. He would never let anyone make him uncomfortable on stage. He might not always command it as well as Winston, but he was most comfortable in front of the people as he tried to earn their applause.

_Suppose I said_

_I am on my best behavior_

_There are times_

_I lose my worried mind_

Joey searched among the people until he found the familiar brown eyes that were watching him from the wing. The stage lights reflected off of his hair and eyes, making Joey smile slightly. His voice followed along the words, singing every word to Simon.

_Would you want me when I'm not myself?_

_Wait it out while I am someone else?_

_Suppose I said_

_Colors change for no good reason_

_words will go_

_From poetry to prose_

Joey hated to take his medication because it always left him being unable to feel. He used to take it every day, but not any more. Sometimes, he promised that he would take it the moment Simon came back. But he never could, because he wanted to feel his heart beat faster, his stomach fill with butterflies, and his cheeks warm up as he blushed at anything Simon said. He wanted to feel happy and proud every time he made Simon laugh or smile. Joey would never give that feeling up for anything.

_Would you want me when I'm not myself?_

_Wait it out while I am someone else?_

_And I, in time, will come around, come around_

_I always do for you_

_Suppose I said_

_You're my saving grace?_

Joey kept his bright green eyes on Simon. Simon smiled back and Joey found himself feeling happy and proud. The actor had been particularly down since he appeared, and he refused to discuss why he had left LA. Joey wished he knew how to make Simon happy, but if singing made him smile then at least Joey had done something right in the last few months.

_My grace_

_My self_

_Not myself, my myself and I..._

_When I'm someone else_

_When I'm someone else_

_When I'm someone else_

_When I'm not myself_

_Myself_

_Myself_

Joey's performance ended with the audience clapping. He stood and bowed politely. But his father and Uncles would only notice the natural, happy smile had graced his face. It was not often that the youngest Wright was naturally happy enough to maintain a smile very long.

Joey slipped backstage. Once he was out of the view of the audience, he found his way to Simon. Simon was standing off to the side, and when he saw Joey he smiled. "You were fantastic."

"Really?"

"Absolutely," Joey grinned a little wider and Simon flashed him another smile, "You know you always sound fantastic."

* * *

Pierce nervously jumped up and down. He could tell Brevyn was nervous too. Winston's incident had them all freaked out, especially the fact that he hadn't woken up yet. "Are you sure you want to go on?" Pierce asked. Brevyn smiled down at him, pale eyes dark with worry.

"Yes."

Pierce walked out onto the stage. His hands were shaking slightly, and he was glad he had asked for someone else to play the music. A couple of the band boys had gathered and were playing from the back left of the stage. Pierce sat down on the stool that had been placed in the middle of the stage. His feet came up to rest on the bottom rung.

Pierce's eyes searched the audience and after a second they landed on his parents. His Dad was glaring at him, cheeks still flushed. Pierce could feel the outline of his father's hand on his cheek. He could still feel it sting when he thought about that moment. Pierce's gaze shifted to his mother. She was sitting up with perfect posture, always proper. Her curls cascaded around her, the red standing out sharply against her blue dress. She stared at him like Pierce was just another performer, not her son. Not someone she had raised, loved, hugged, and kissed goodnight when he was young enough to believe she could make the monsters go away.

Now they were the monsters.

Pierce found Blaine and Kurt in the audience. They were both smiling at him, eyes sparkling. They didn't even know Brevyn would be dancing with the song. They were gazing at him like that. With the excited expressions that were impossible to fake. The way they were leaning forwards just slightly, something nobody ever realized they were doing until they leaned back against their seat. Kurt formed his hands into a heart and grinned in encouragement. Blaine did the same and Pierce felt himself smile and blush. Maybe he could handle living at their house this Christmas.

Then the music started softly behind him.

Just as the bells were chiming, Brevyn gracefully twirled his way onto the stage. Pierce watched as Brevyn danced his way through the song without having practiced before. His feet didn't stumble, and he never hesitated in his moments. Pierce wished he could be that brave.

Then it was his turn. Pierce opened his mouth and let the first words form, his eyes still watching Brevyn. This was, after all, a song for him.

_The room's hush, hush,  
And now's our moment.  
Take it in feel it all and hold it.  
Eyes on you, eyes on me.  
We're doing this right._

_Cause lovers dance when they're feeling in love._  
_Spotlight shinning, it's all about us._  
_It's oh, oh, all,_  
_About uh, uh, us._  
_And every heart in the room will melt,_  
_This is a feeling I've never felt but,_  
_It's oh, oh, all about us._

Pierce kept his eyes on Brevyn. His boyfriend cast him a small, delicate smile that proved to Pierce that he would be okay. No matter what happened, he had Brevyn. He didn't need anything else.

_Suddenly, I'm feeling brave.  
Don't know what's got into me,  
Why I feel this way.  
Can we dance, real slow?  
Can I hold you, real close?_

_The room's hush, hush,_  
_And now's our moment._  
_Take it in feel it all and hold it._  
_Eyes on you, eyes on me._  
_We're doing this right._

_Cause lovers dance when they're feeling in love._  
_Spotlight shinning, it's all about us._  
_It's oh, oh, all,_  
_About uh, uh, us._  
_And every heart in the room will melt,_  
_This is a feeling I've never felt but,_  
_It's oh, oh, all about us._

Pierce watched as Brevyn danced closer. He spun around Pierce's chair until his fingers gently grasped onto Pierce's. Pierce nearly tugged away, but when Brevyn was the one pulling on his fingers it was different. He trusted Brevyn to not hurt him.

The dancer tugged the singer onto the floor before lining them up in the position to waltz. Pierce blushed, but continued to sing as Brevyn slowly led them around the stage. Brevyn's fingers held onto Pierce's giving him the extra boost of courage to sing and dance like this. To sing and dance to this song, with Brevyn, in front of all the people in the room.

_Lovers dance when they're feeling in love.  
Spotlight shinning, it's all about us.  
It's all, all, all, all.  
Every heart in the room will melt,  
This is a feeling I've never felt,  
But it's all about us._

_Cause lovers dance when they're feeling in love._  
_Spotlight shinning, it's all about us._  
_It's oh, oh._  
_(hey-ey hey)_  
_And every heart in the room will melt,_  
_This is a feeling I've never felt but,_  
_It's oh, oh, all,_  
_It's all about us._

As the song drifted to a close, Brevyn squeezed Pierce's fingers and both of them bowed together. They slipped offstage as fast a possible.

Backstage, they managed one short kiss before all of the Warblers pounced on them. They whispered their praise and congratulations.

* * *

The entire group now faced the decision of who would sing lead in the last song. Winston was starting to wake up, but even if he did there was no way they were letting him on stage.

Eventually someone suggested Beckett should sing it. After all, he lived with Winston and had heard the song on replay over a hundred times in the last week alone. This was true, and there wasn't really time for anyone to argue about who was going to sing. Miss. Marinelli and Brevyn sat down by Winston in order to watch over him as the Warblers found their way onstage.

_I've been waiting on the sunset  
Bills on my mindset  
I can't deny they're getting high  
Higher than my income  
My income's breadcrumbs  
I've been trying to survive  
The glow that the sun gives  
Right around sunset  
Helps me realize  
This is just a journey  
Drop your worries  
You are gonna turn out fine.  
Oh, you'll turn out fine.  
Fine, oh, you'll turn out fine.  
_

Winston had woken up as soon as he heard the familiar tune. That made Brevyn laugh, but he was hugging Winston and not letting go any time soon. His arms were linked around Winston's neck, half strangling the eldest Anderson.

However, the curly haired singer threw one arm around Brevyn while watching Beckett sing. Beckett spun around in a circle, dancing pretty well for someone who claimed to hate having a solo in front of audiences. Winston smiled, glad to see his friend up there having fun.

_But you gotta keep your head up, oh,  
And you can let your hair down, eh.  
You gotta keep your head up, oh,  
And you can let your hair down, eh.  
I know it's hard, know it's hard,  
To remember sometimes,  
But you gotta keep your head up, oh,  
And you can let your hair down, eh.  
_

"Winston, we need to get you to the Clinic…"

"Later," Winston ignored Miss. Marinelli. He didn't want to move from where he was.

Beckett decided he could see why Winston was so comfortable at the center of the stage. But he was still nervous. He glanced over into the wing and saw Winston sitting up and grinning. The thumbs up he got from both Anderson brothers made Beckett smile as he went into the next verse.

_Only rainbows after rain  
The sun will always come again.  
It's a circle, circling,  
Around again, it comes around again.  
I say only rainbows after rain  
The sun will always come again.  
It's a circle, circling,  
Around again, it comes around_

_But you gotta keep your head up, oh,_  
_And you can let your hair down, eh._  
_You gotta keep your head up, oh,_  
_And you can let your hair down, eh._  
_I know it's hard, know it's hard,_  
_To remember sometimes,_  
_But you gotta keep your head up, oh,_  
_And you can let your hair down, eh._

As the song ended, the Warblers all froze. Mike and Mitch were grinning, eyes bright as their fingers clasped small communication devices that were sitting in their pockets. In front of them, Cian's dark curly hair was bright as he smiled at the audience. He could see his Dads in the front row, grinning at him like they only had this moment to express all their love. The sight nearly made him roll his eyes. Alan was trying to not look at his father and mother. But it was hard. His dad was tracing the room with rock salt, and his mother was holding a deck of Tarot cards. The last thing Alan wanted to see. So he shifted his gaze over to Roger. Roger was standing on his tiptoes in order to get a good look at the boy down a row and over to the left from him. Simon was staring back at Roger, but then at Joey. Joey's eyes were fixed on Simon, but he wasn't quite able to tell if Simon was staring back or not. Eric was in the very back row, wishing he could see what all the boys were doing. He didn't trust them to not do something rash at Winter Fest. Lastly, Beckett glanced around him and then bowed. This caused the rest of the boys to spring to life.

Mike and Mitch yanked their hands up to their mouths, giving the command to Link and Kelly.

A second later, and an assortment of balloons, bright colored ball-pin balls, confetti, and streamers dropped down onto the well-dressed audience, who burst out in screams of joy and terror.

* * *

"You can't just do that!" Mike and Mitch were sitting on a couch in the Windsor common room. They were leaning back, blazers unbuttoned and hair pushed out of their bright eyes. Their arms were folded across their chests, and they sported identical expressions of amusement at Eric's frustration.

"Clearly, we can." Mike explained patiently, as if teaching a four year old.

"I mean, we just did." Mitch tagged on, raised one blond eyebrow in a 'silly prefect' gesture.

Eric gapped at the two of them. "But… that… you shouldn't just…"

"Well that is a different argument." Mitch said.

"And I rather like to think we brought some fun to the evening. They all enjoyed playing around with it once they realized it wasn't hurting them," Mike said.

"I mean, the Warblers performing was great."

"But after Winston's ordeal."

"We thought that they might like something lighter." Mitch finished. Mike tilted his head to the side in order to stare at Eric some more.

"Eric, may we go? We have to finish packing all of our nerf guns and ammo."

"Yeah yeah."

* * *

Madison and Michelle Brightman wandered into Windsor. Their long legs swiftly moved in stride together as they towered over the smaller boys.

"Hello." Madison grinned in a way that made the freshman in the room slide two feet away from the beautiful new comers. It was too similar to the blonds they already had to deal with.

"We are looking for our twins." Michelle added, her eyes sweeping around the room. As she did so, the two girls started for the stairs.

"You aren't allowed up—" one of the freshman began, but was silenced as he was hit between the eyes with a Nerf bullet. The girls were just as accurate as their other halves.

They slid up the stairs, blonde hair streaming after them as they wandered the halls. After a moment, Michelle pushed closer to a door and slid it open. As she did, two blond heads whipped around. The girls settled into the sofa. "So did you get in trouble?"

"Of course you didn't."

Mike laughed and inched forwards, fitting between the two girls. "Of course not. Don't you trust us?" Madison just laughed at her twin while Michelle stood and shifted so that she was on Mitch's bed.

"Why would we do that?"

"Good question." Mitch grinned, having absolutely no answer for her. Her eyes tightened, daring him to argue the point. However, it was really the paintball gun pointed at his chest that stopped him.

"Where do you even hide that?" Link exploded from the doorway, tossing the nerf bullet he had been hit with back at Madison.

Michelle grinned along with the other three. "You don't want to know."

"They have skills," Mike said.

"Oh yes we do." Madison added, holding her nerf gun up and pointed at Kelly, who was hiding behind his blond friend.

"Down down, they are our protégé."

"Ah… so James and Albus?" They were back to talking at the same time.

"Exactly!"

* * *

Cian glanced around his room. He had put his textbooks and electronics into a small backpack, which was slung over one shoulder. He didn't need to bring clothes or anything else home. The Anderson-Van Kamp house overflowed with an excess of clothes.

Brevyn slammed his last bag shut and then stood up. He had a scarf thrown around his neck, and a Burberry Prorsum coat. His dark hair was held away from his face with hairspray, and he had already ditched the uniform. "It is just so awful and plain!" Brevyn had commented.

"Ready?" Cian asked as Brevyn tugged the suitcase up so that he could carry it.

"Absolutely. Back home to New York City."

The two cousins grinned before slipping out of their dorm room and into the hall.

* * *

"Come on, you have to come up a few days before the party!" Winston exclaimed from his position on the couch. Beckett glared at his friend as the singer tried to stand up.

"Stay," Winston rolled his eyes, but leaned back against the pillows as commanded. "And maybe. I will talk to Dad."

"Bring him along! I'm sure he and my Dads would love to see each other."

"Mom?"

"She can go shopping with Dad. Or do whatever. Go to a tea shop, I'm sure they would both love that."

"Maybe."

"You could see Pheobe."

Beckett nodded and Winston tilted his head to the side, curls falling into his eyes. He swept them to the side impatiently, eyes focusing as best as possible on the other teenager who was standing next to his bed. "What is wrong between you two?"

"We just haven't seen or talked to each other in a while."

"You used to talk to her all the time… I just thought you were calling her from outside like you had been."

"Not really."

Winston stood up, ignoring Beckett's protests, and wrapped his arms around Beckett. "It will be okay. I promise."

* * *

Eventually, all the boys found their way downstairs to the common room in Windsor. Pierce had been walked over from Hanover by Tristan, his parents, and Danny. Brevyn had pulled his boyfriend closer, and was trying to consol Pierce. Pierce was trying to keep upbeat, but everyone could tell he was still clearly shaken up by the events. The Brightmans held out some chocolate. Pierce hesitated a second, and then took it with a grin. He thanked them before taking a small bite.

"Hey, you already feed us most of the time, this is the least we can do," Mike answered. Mitch nodded from next to him.

"Anything else we can do, let us know."

"Thanks, but everyone is already doing enough," Pierce blushed softly at the attention.

"We do this to everyone, no worries," Beckett filled in with a grin.

"We take care of our own," Roger tagged on and Wes beamed at his son's statement.

"So don't worry about a thing little baker," Winston added with a grin.

"He bakes!" Kurt burst out, pale eyes widening. Everyone laughed as the Tweedles bounced over.

"Alice, you are not the only one!" They chorused.

"You bake?" Pierce asked hesitantly, hoping he would have something in common with the men who had offered their house to him.

"Absolutely," Kurt answered. "And pretty well if I do say so myself."

"You have nothing on Pierce Da," Brevyn said.

"Hush," said Pierce.

"Well it is true."

"If you can sing as well as you just did on stage, and you can bake, you will more than fit in," Blaine said with a kind smile. "We are so glad to have you for the holidays Pierce."

* * *

_So that is the latest bit. Hope you enjoyed Winter Fest. Let me know what you thought! _

_I hope you enjoyed reading. _

_Love PB_


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or Dalton.

Hey, so I am so so so sorry that this took so long to write. I really don't have any great excuses. But I hope you like it.

That being said, I feel like I also owe you an explanation even though it does not excuse my tardiness. To start with, a lot of it got rewritten way too many times (Hear that Simon? Winston?). And by way too many, I mean that about half of it got written eight times no joke. Also, I couldn't write the first two weeks as I had finals and was banned. Then I had drivers ed (anyone else had to take it? six hours of learning how to drive from a classroom). It does not invite creative moments and when I got home I tried to write and I think I nearly had Pierce run away it was that bad. So I decided to not screw with my entire plot line that way and instead try to stick to what would actually happen. That means Pierce has not run away, no worries.

Anyway, thanks a lot. And if you can find it in you to review and tell me what you think of the story, the characters, my grammar mistakes (tell me where they are and I can fix them) then I will love you forever and ever and probably have all the boys hug you to death.

Here it is. Sixteen word document pages later...

* * *

The four blond Brightman children were gathered in the light spacious living room of their penthouse on Park Avenue in New York City. Mike was sitting behind the slim, bright turquoise couch, his gun held loosely in his hands, but his finger never leaving the neon orange trigger. Mitch's hiding spot was just inside the smooth, white, double doors that lead to the coat closet. His yellow gun was aimed out the crack. The light just fell onto one of his startling blue eyes as he scanned the room for any signs of life other than his siblings. Madison was curled up under a slick chair. Madison was curled up, her legs pulled against her chest and her sharp features just breaking out of her curtain of platinum hair. Michelle was under the Christmas tree, surrounded by many packages. Her bright clothing mixed in well with the other shiny wrappings and ornaments. Her eyes nearly resembled to ornaments as she peered out from the deepest branches. Both girls had their hands on Nerf guns, with another pistol hidden in their jeans.

Then came two sets of footsteps. Each sound was actually two as the identical strides easily navigated the halls together. They were coming from down the hall and towards the large stylish living room.

All four bodies tensed, muscles tightening as they tried to be as close to pulling the trigger as possible, without actually letting the bullets fly.

Then two other blond heads appeared.

And within seconds, all four kids had been hit, and the Dads had evaded nearly all of the ammunition launched in their directions. Ethan brushed one orange target off of his sleeve while grinning. "Nice try," He murmured as he began to roll his sleeves back. The nice suits meant nothing to the identical blond adults, not when there was a Nerf war to be had; and a chance to help their children reach their full potential.

"But we taught you everything you know," Evan finished.

Mike and Madison laughed, white teeth flashing as their eyes narrowed. Michelle and Mitch leaned back on their heels, pale eyebrows raised in challenge.

"You wanna bet?" Madison asked after a second, her tone playful but with the threat that maybe this year, they would be good enough.

Evan shot his daughter straight in the stomach. Her expression flashed to one of frustration. She shot him back, the bullet hitting his collarbone.

And _that_ is when all hell broke loose in the Brightman household.

* * *

Blaine's eyes were still closed, and his chest was rising and falling slowly. The covers were slung around his waist, while his shirt was twisted under him. With every breath, the cloth stretched over his torso, and then winkled as Blaine let the breath out. His lips were just barely moving; reminiscent of the sleep talking that Blaine had a habit of doing. The normally tame curls were spilling onto the crème pillow in a wild flurry.

Kurt smiled to himself, once again amazed at how lucky his life had turned out. He wanted nothing more than to curl up with Blaine and fall back asleep for another hour or two. He let his fingers softly trace Blaine's hand before folding them back inward and grasping the sheet instead.

He was up now, might as well go get breakfast started. He stretched his fingers over the soft sheets before pushing his weight back and slipping out from underneath the warm comforter.

The golden room was just lighting up as the sun rose high enough to peek in through the skylight that made up part of the ceiling. The mirror on the antique make-up table showed Kurt's image. His hair was uncombed and falling to the side. His worn out shirt, which was actually Blaine's, was comfortable around him, while his flannel pants helped keep him warm despite the chilly temperature of the world outside of his king-sized bed.

With one last longing look at Blaine's sleeping form Kurt silently opened the wooden door and slipped into the rest of the apartment.

He passed Winston's closed door, and could see that Brevyn's was also shut. That usually meant that breakfast was left to Kurt. If the boys were up, which they rarely were, then they had already tried to put cereal together and no breakfast really needed to be made.

So when Kurt walked into the living room he was very confused to see the kitchen lights on. He slowly inched around the corner until he could see the newest member of his family walking around the room.

The small boy's curls shone in the bright lights of the kitchen. His fingers carefully placed a ceramic bowl in the sink. A little water splashed onto the sleeve of his shirt, leaving a small cluster of darker droplets. His eyes widened momentarily, the green specks lighting up. He reached for a towel but then seemed to think better of that idea.

Pierce was spun away from the sink, his bare feet taking him over towards the stove. There, he plucked a piece of French toast up from the pan, setting it onto a rack of already baked breakfast foods. He then dunked another piece of bread into the bowl before laying it in the sizzling pan.

Finally his fingers grasped a clean towel and he softly blotted at the droplets of water. They were already fading, and so Pierce abandoned his attempted in order to turn to the metallic counters and begin cleaning them off of any lasting flour.

Kurt recognized the clothes as one of Brevyn's shirts, and an old pair of jeans. Eyeing the smaller boy, Kurt decided that he was about two sizes smaller than Brevyn. He would have to talk to Reed later.

"Brevyn wasn't joking," Kurt finally murmured. He had waited until Pierce was far enough away from the stove to avoid hitting it. Even with the care though, Pierce nearly knocked the frying pan over as he jumped at Kurt's voice.

"Oh, about… about what?" Pierce answered after a moment. His voice shook just slightly and his gaze was downcast, examining the tiles that Kurt had spent two weeks deciding on. He was clearly still uncomfortable in their apartment. But at least he was baking, something he apparently loved to do.

Kurt smiled kindly and walked forward, sliding onto an empty part of the counter. He folded his hands under his knees and leaned back before rocking forwards again. "About the baking. That smells heavenly."

Pierce blushed under the praise, but smiled. "Here, try some." He slid a piece of the French toast onto a white ceramic plate. Then he placed a couple slices of strawberry onto it, a handful of raspberries, sprinkled some powdered sugar on top, and poured some warm maple syrup into a small bowl. Kurt carefully cut a small piece off and dipped it into the syrup before eating it.

The next second, his pale eyes were wide and he was staring at the talented teenager sitting in his kitchen. He had gone from being a boy in need of help to a person worthy of worship for his baking skills. Kurt briefly considered bowing. "Oh my… do, how did you learn to bake like this?"

Pierce laughed quietly, revealing white teeth and a cute smile. "I just picked it up when I moved into Hanover. I was tired of eating burnt toast, so I decided someone in Dalton had to be able to cook."

Kurt nodded in agreement while eating the rest of his breakfast. Within five minutes he was staring, wide eyed, at the pale plate that had a smattering of white powered sugar on it. "You…"

Then Brevyn strutted into the kitchen. He was dressed, hair held back with hairspray and his entire outfit perfectly lined up. "Hello Da, good morning love," he walked over, sliding his arms around Pierce and dropping a kiss on the top of his head.

Pierce immediately slid his arms around Brevyn, leaning up on his tiptoes to kiss Brevyn's cheek. The smile that graced his face was silent and blinding. Kurt found himself looking away in order to give them a moment.

He was lucky because his gaze landed on Blaine.

Blaine was standing in the other doorway, leaning against the frame. He seemed to have had the exact same idea as Kurt, as his golden gaze was just shifting away from the young couple in the kitchen. He smiled before walking over towards Kurt. Blaine's casual walk was quiet and the two teenagers in the middle of the kitchen hardly noticed. Blaine sat down next to Kurt, linking their fingers together and using his thumb to trace swirled over the back of Kurt's hand.

"Like your shirt," Blaine smirked. It proclaimed "Dalton Academy Fencing Team" across the front, with "Class of 2012" across the back. The lettering was red while the shirt was a deep navy blue. Kurt just grinned and squeezed Blaine's fingers.

"Yeah, I tend to steal clothes from my adorable husband, have you seen him?"

Blaine rolled his eyes, then changed the subject by pointing to the plate. It was obvious that it used to have something awesome on it, but now didn't. That disturbed Blaine as he had clearly missed-

"Mr. and Mr. Anderson, these are for you two."

At the same time, Pierce slid two more plates onto the island. They were laden with French toast, berries, powdered sugar, and a small bowl of warm maple syrup. Just like the first plate Kurt had devoured.

Kurt dropped Blaine's hand, his fingers shooting forward to take his plate and fork. His fingers made quick work of cutting the food into bite sized pieces. His eyes closed and Kurt hummed happily as he took another bite.

Brevyn grinned as a plate was passed to him. He grabbed a fork, already knowing what he was getting himself into. This was one of his favorite breakfasts, and Pierce knew it. Brevyn leaned over, dropping a kiss onto Pierce's cheek and casually adding "I love you". Pierce blushed slightly but Brevyn ignored that as he began to eat.

Blaine raised an eyebrow, wondering what could make Kurt take second helpings of anything, especially something so calorie laden.

He cut off a bite, sticking it into his mouth and hoping for something eatable. Then his eyes widened and Blaine pointed his fork at Pierce.

Pierce looked worried for a second. Then Blaine's face split into a wide grin and he motioned at Pierce with his fork. "You are one talented kid. What else do you need to bake? And how can I bribe you to never leave?"

* * *

The bright sun caused L.A. to be significantly warmer than the frigid state of Ohio. As a result, America's favorite heartthrob was lying outside in the grass of his backyard, absorbing as much sun as he possibly could. Simon's dark sunglasses were slipping down his nose, which was itching slightly as the tips of the grass brushed the edge of his nose. He had slipped his shirt off, and was lying with his tan arms pressed into the cool grass and his eyes closed tightly. The sun was warming his back, and Simon felt himself drifting off to sleep. His eyelids were falling shut, despite his initial efforts to keep them open. His bones felt like they were made of metal and too heavy to even think about lifting, so he didn't try. Sure he was supposed to be at a photo shoot for Entertainment Weekly in half an hour. And after that, he was off to talk to his grandfather about a movie.

But the grass and sunshine was so inviting. And he had been so stressed. And perfect moments were so rare…

A few minutes later, and Simon's sun was blocked by a tall blond woman. Simon shifted his gaze up, eyes squinting as they adjusted. Her sharp glare reprimanded her client for losing track of time.

"Katie!" Simon smiled charmingly. Normally, any sane person would have felt their anger ebbing as their brain registered the bright flash of white teeth. But Simon's agent was well adept at dealing with her famous star and all his antics.

"Simon, you are not dressed. Nor do you have your cell phone near you."

"They are unhealthy. I'm trying to avoid tumors."

"You are trying to avoid work. I know you need a break, but we can't let you drop completely off the map."

Simon shoved up at the mention of his taking a break. His fingers barely grasped the edge of his shirt before started off towards the huge house. "I told you I didn't need a break. I told you I am fine, and that I can continue to work. You are the one making me take a break. Not my fault, that is all on you."

"As soon as your doctors say you can, you can continue work."

"They don't know anything about me." Simon huffed as he grabbed his sunglasses off his nose. No reason to wear them inside his own house. He cast a glare backwards at Katie.

"Well right now, they don't think you can handle it!" Katie called after him. She stopped when she reached the entryway of the Larson Estate. Simon disappeared upstairs to get fit enough to head out to the shoot. Katie looked out the window to double check that the limo was waiting before taking a few moments to breathe.

Her gaze traveled around the room. Katie had been in here so many times she lost track. Simon never remembered that he actually had to arrive on time for things. So, she always reminded Julian, sent someone to get Simon, or came herself.

The large hall had stunning wooden floors, and large clear windows surrounding the double door entrance. The room had a bright and welcome feel to it while simultaneously feeling sleek and modern. Lots of designers had fought with each other over who would get the chance to design this room when Julian and Laura first had it done. Now, it had been featured in many magazines and Simon had done a couple of photo shoots in this room, not to mention the rest of the perfectly polished house.

Several pictures were hung up around the room. Glossy prints. They helped make the place feel lived in, even though the occupants were gone several months of the year; their time was divided between school for Simon and filming for both father and son. Most of the prints were from recent years. Lots of Simon by himself, but the two Larsons had done a couple spreads together. Most of the pictures with both actors in it were of Simon at a young age. Julian's arms were usually wrapped around the young boy, his hands clasped tightly in a nearly protective stance. Both boys had wide grins in place, their brown eyes bright and their white smiles dazzling. The pictures couldn't be more perfect. However, Katie knew how hard those first few years had been on both Larson boys. The earliest photo of Simon had three people in it. Simon was barely two weeks old. Unless Katie had been told, she wouldn't have known it was her client. His dark eyes were closed, and the most familiar aspect was the barely-present chocolate hair that curled around his head. There were two other people in the photo. Julian's eyes were sparkling with a delight that, later, it had taken him years to find again. His cheeks were flushed slightly pink, and his lips pulled back into the largest grin of his life. One of his hands was curled around Simon, the large fingers barely brushing against Simon's stomach as if he was afraid he could crush his small son. Julian's other arm was wound around the waist of Laura Bertrand-Larson. The beautiful actress held Simon in the crook of her arm, her lips split into a smile that radiated happiness. Her blue eyes shone and her gaze was fixated upon her son. Laura was leaning into Julian's embrace, her thin shoulders curving to fit perfectly against his chest as they shielded Simon from the world, even as they introduced him to the media after fourteen days of life.

They never had a chance.

The family portrait was beautiful, and had been broadcast across the nation when it was first shot. The captions and articles about that picture and the rest of the photo shoot exclaimed that they were the perfect family. The next year, on the exact same day, they had done another shoot. This time, Julian and Simon were by themselves. They were outside at a cemetery, Julian wearing only black and Simon clad in an innocent white. Julian was crying, his eyes red and small splotches appearing on his white shirt. Simon was held tightly in Julian's arms as the small boy gazed down at his mother's coffin. His light brown eyes were wide and inquisitive, his lips barely parted as his year old mind tried to catch up with his father's tears. He couldn't understand that he would never see her again.

The second picture was missing from the white walls, and for good reason. Katie had the magazine in a hidden box in her study, but she tried to avoid looking at it. It was a heart-wrenching photo, especially considering the circumstances. Julian's already expressive face was overflowing. And to see it choked up with honest emotion rather than his, admittedly fantastic, acting made a deep impression upon those who had only seen him pretending to be someone else. If they thought he had other people down… And Simon's somber obliviousness cast an entire other mood onto the scene. There was no way Julian would allow a copy to be around in his house. Katie wondered if Simon had ever even been shown the magazine or pictures. He was too young to have been shown it at the time, even though it wouldn't have made sense, and no interviewer or fan in his or her right mind would ever splay that image in front of his face. The few people who could have shown it to him probably cared enough about Simon to not subject him to that kind of stress.

Katie turned as she heard a set of footstep coming from the floor above her beginning at the far end of the mansion. Simon began to walk down the stairs, each foot only resting momentarily on the bright wooden floor. He was in dark wash Levi's, a classic Calvin Klein button down, and Converse. A pair of sunglasses were hanging from his loosely buttoned shirt, and his hair had been haphazardly washed. Now it was drying in every direction, but the effect was quite teenage-angst in appearance so Katie let it slide.

Plus, Simon needed a break. And it was her job to give him one, but keep him as America's center of entertainment. That was an incredibly hard combination to manage.

"Ready Simon?"

He flashed her an award-winning smile, brown eyes sparkling and his entire posture filling with energy upon command. "Let's go."

* * *

Joey sighed as he fell backwards onto the couch. The patterns of the fabric pressed against his arms, adding little designs over his skin. "Let it go, please."

Logan's frame, almost identical to his son's, blocked the doorway. His emerald eyes were light with frustration, and his blond hair stuck out in every direction. Now, his fingers ran through it again, angrily shifting the light strands around. "No! Why haven't you taken your medication?" The dark edge of anger that used to fright Joey was laced through each word.

With a snort, Joey flopped over onto his back. His shoulder blades dug into the couch as he shifted, his head leaning back against a pillow. He let it fall to the side, forehead crushed against the back of the couch while the curve of the pillow only added pressure. He was sure this wasn't helping his headache. "Why haven't you taken your medication?" He used the same inflections as Logan, causing the dad to blush while his eyes narrowed angrily. Now, they matched each other in nearly every way.

"Don't you dare use that tone of voice with me. I know how badly this habit can turn out—"

"Logan, love, may I?" Joey felt his eyes widen in surprise, discomfort and a little regret as his father turned around to reveal his dad.

James Wright smiled charmingly at both parties. His light brown hair was smoothed down against his head. He was still dressed perfectly and properly, although he had discarded the black suit jacket in the living room. His hand rested softly on Logan's elbow, and his eyes gazed up at the blond. His blue eyes disarmed Logan. "The Spanish Ambassador was being persnickety today, so I kind of need to relax before I go back tomorrow. Can you go find a good wine? I don't know what we have right now, and we both know I can't really pick a nice one. I only want a glass or two."

Logan hesitantly nodded, throwing one last look at Joey before leaving the room in a couple strides of his long legs.

Then James was walked towards Joey, his fingers creeping up his slim black tie in order to loosen it. "I'm gone for three hours at a dinner at the White House, and this is what happens?"

Joey snorted again, his gaze looking at everything except his Dad. It finally settled on a pile of schoolbooks in the corner. Chemistry was on the top of the pile and Joey sighed, he hated chem. He was awful. He would have to consul Simon later. Si was the only one who passed that class. Joey sat up, opening up more room at the other end of the couch. "You should expect this outcome, he always gets on my case about medication!"

"I know, but it is his job."

"But he can't even take his own medication!"

"So he knows how badly it can go. And you know how hard it is to take it. Cut him a little slack? And you know that we love you as you are. I don't care if you are angry, or normal, or medicated. I am not trying to do away with you. I just want you to be happy. And that won't happen as long as you feel angry at the smallest things. " James carefully measured two of the pills into his hand before holding them and a water glass out towards his son. His son just stared reluctantly back at him. The green eyes were practically begging, even if his lips remained motionless. Eventually, James sighed just set the small white pills on the dresser. "Please take them. I won't make you, but please take them Joey."

* * *

Pierce was curled up on the couch in the Anderson's living room. Brevyn and Kurt had gone Christmas shopping. The two fashionistas had been nice enough to invite him along, but Pierce had declined. They would out-shop him in ten minutes flat, even on his best days. And after all, they needed family time. Pierce knew he was already taking up some space in their family during Christmas, an important family-centric time. Despite their reassurances that he was not invading, Pierce felt like he needed to give them all some space to try and retain some normality to their Christmas Break.

Winston was at the hospital today, getting some more tests run. Blaine had gone with him. So far, the hospitals had been unable to find anything wrong with Winston, but they were running more tests in order to find out what was wrong.

So Pierce had been curled up for a long time. The television was on, but Pierce was lost in his own swirl of thoughts. They just swam around and around his head, always passing the same points and the same exact thoughts. He wondered if he should have done it differently, if he should care, if he should not care, if he should go to a hotel room, if he should try to talk to his parents, and more. What if something really was wrong with him? After all, your parents were supposed to love you and you would have had to do something really awful in order to lose that right?

But then Pierce would think of Brevyn's face, his smile, and his kisses. Then Pierce would realize that he didn't care if something was wrong with him, he could never leave Brevyn. Pierce's heart was held entirely by Brevyn, and there was nothing Pierce could ever do to get it back.

The lock jingled and Pierce was pulled from his thoughts as keys were dropped onto a table. Blaine's head poked around the side of the wall, and Pierce felt the man's eyes sweep over him.

Blaine slid out of his shoes, socks cooling down a little as they connected with the floor. The tiles were slippery, and so he slowly walked over towards the young boy occupying a corner of his couch.

Pierce hadn't moved since Blaine had left the apartment 3 hours earlier. He was still curled up, large sweater engulfing him, and his head tilted slightly to the side.

Blaine felt the edges of his lips quirk upwards into a sad smile as he began to walk towards the couch. There was a very important conversation he needed to have with Pierce.

"Hey."

Pierce's head whipped around and he winced, muscles protesting after having been still that long. "Hey." His hazel eyes focused on Blaine, and the boy bit his lip, not sure what to say.

Blaine lowered himself onto the couch an arms-length away from Pierce. "I know how you are feeling." Blaine pressed his fingertips together, trying to ignore the way he tensed up before telling this story. It happened years ago, he felt that he should be able to talk about it without getting worked up, but apparently that was not how it went for him. "I came out to my Dad and he… he didn't handle it well. He shoved me against the gun case and beat the crap out of me. My mother did nothing to stop it." Blaine chanced a side-glance at Pierce. The other boy's eyes were staring intently at Blaine, who could just barely see a couple tears finding their paths down his cheeks. "I tried to stay at home for a while, but I couldn't deal with the pressure of not being accepted at home or at school. And now, they were both hostile. So I found Dalton, and eventually I transferred." Blaine now managed to turn around and stare at Pierce. The boy hastily wiped at his cheeks with his sleeves, leaving a couple dark stains on the material. "I am telling you this because I want you to know that I get what you are going through. Kurt was bullied at his school, so he has a bit of an idea as to how it feels. We will always be here if you need to talk. Our apartment will always be open to you if you feel like you need somewhere to stay. And if you need anything at all, we will always do our best to help. I know that there is a chance you might be starting to question yourself after your parents' reaction, but I want, no, I need you to know that there is nothing wrong with you. You are perfect the way you are."

* * *

When Brevyn waltzed into the apartment with his Dad, shopping bags in their arms, he was stunned into a motionless silence at the scene in the living room.

Pierce was laughing with Da, both of them munching on something Pierce must have made because Da could barely work the toaster on good days.

Pierce's eyes found Brevyn and the familiar grin fell over his face. "Brev!" Brevyn felt a blinding grin wash over his face. Pierce was going to be all right.

* * *

Joey woke up with a body on top of him. More specifically, Joey woke up with Damien's heavy body on top of him. And Damien was telling him something in a voice that was way too excited.

His gaze searched around his room until he found his alarm clock, which screamed in red, blinking lights that it was eight in the morning on December twenty-forth. That was still entirely too early. "Not that I don't love you, but what the hell are you doing in my room?" Joey sat up and glared at the two boys who were now occupying his room.

"Enjoying your company." Simon's voice floated over from the doorway, where he was lounging against the doorframe. "Clearly you are such as beauty in the morning that we couldn't stay away." Simon pushed up off the door and came to join Joey and Damien on Joey's bed.

"Just get the hell out."

"But I already manage to wake Simon up in order to be here! Uncle Julian couldn't even make him get out of bed! I had to slowly lure him away!" Damien stood up off of Joey's bed and strode over to a couch a few feet away. What he failed to add was that he lured him away by making comments on Simon and Joey. No need for the blond to have to react to that this early. Not with Simon in the room. Damien fell backwards onto the soft couch, his gaze still watching the blond.

"Out! I'm tired and you are here and I swear if you don't leave now…"

"If I don't leave now you will what?" Simon asked right before Joey's fist connected with his cheekbone.

"Hey!" Damien stepped forward and pulled Simon off of Joey's bed while glaring at the blond. "I know you hate mornings, but it is Christmas Eve and we are here because we care-"

"Yes, well get out."

Damien was about to protest but Simon was already out the door and into the hallway. Damien threw a withering glance down at Joey. "Don't hurt Simon, we need to be here for him right now." Damien turned and left Joey's room.

Joey tilted his head to the side. Sure Simon had seemed stressed out and a little down over the past couple weeks. But Joey had thought he was just sad about the fact that he wasn't filming anymore. But that had happened before and Damien never reacted like that.

Joey felt his heart beat a little faster. He always wanted to know what was going on in Simon's head, but Joey had a tendency to not ask. He was too afraid Simon would return the favor and figure out what was going through Joey's head, and how had he had fallen.

He sighed as he threw the covers off and was hit with a blast of cold air. He had to go find Simon.

* * *

Damien rushed over so that he was standing next to Simon. The actor's dark hair was gelled away from his face, which made the red mark on his cheek exceptionally obvious. "Simon? Simon, why won't you tell—"

"You know how he over reacts. How do you think he would react to this?" Simon's voice was quiet and tight as he revealed his wrist. The scars were new, only a few days old. "I don't want that." Simon rolled his sleeve back down as he heard footsteps.

"Please Simon…"

"No. I am not telling Joey." Simon tossed a glare at his friend before facing a mirror and frowning. "I am not walking through DC with this on my face."

"Lets go find something for that." Joey said and Simon turned. Joey smiled sadly and motioned for Simon to go first. The actor remained stoney faced but as he began walking down the hall he relaxed. He couldn't stay angry.

"What do you think you have that could help?" Simon smiled.

* * *

Simon smiled as he settled into the black leather seat on the limo. Damien and Joey were on either side of him and they were hidden behind tinted windows, allowing Simon to slide his sunglasses off. Julian had made him put on a little bit of make up in order to hide the red mark. While Joey and Damien laughed at him, Simon was just happy that the paparazzi wouldn't be having a field day and wondering how Simon had ended up with a face on his head. He was lucky that he had only been caught by a few on the way to the car. When he and his Dad were together, they were usually accosted by every imaginable camera.

As the limo started to move, Simon closed his eyes and went to sleep. They would be in Providence in a few hours, and he would prefer to sleep those few hours away.

As Simon fell asleep, his head tilted to the right, falling against Joey's shoulder.

At first, Joey just stared at Simon. He watched the way his weightless eyelids fluttered a little as he slept, just every once and a while. He watched the way Simon's hair crinkled against his shoulder, and the way that his entire body shifted so that he was able to lean against Joey more comfortably. Joey reached one hand up and softly rubbed a little of the make up away. The red mark was still clear on Simon's face, the pink edge standing out against Simon's tanner skin.

Joey softly pressed his lips to his rough fingertips, and then tenderly set his fingers against the mark. "I'm so sorry Simon, I will be better."

Across the seat, Damien smiled as he stared at his book.

* * *

"Home sweet home." Julian said as the boys all drove up to the Newport Mansion. The tall gates opened to reveal a long gravel drive up to a towering and old-fashioned mansion.

The limo rolled to a stop, and Simon stepped out of the vehicle and onto the driveway. Joey and Damien were only two steps behind their friend, and then the fathers got out.

Simon shoved his hands in his pockets and walked forward. As he reached the two story high double doors they swung open. Simon grinned. That was what he loved about this house. He didn't have to do a thing. Not that he did in L.A. or Dalton either. But here, he didn't even have to open a door to let himself into the house. The gleaming marble floors reflected the tall, light green walls that had gold designs printed on them.

All the boys began to walk up the wide curling staircase and then head down different hallways towards their bedrooms.

Simon fell backwards onto his bed. The blue sheets had been washed recently, and they still smelled like the laundry soap. Simon smiled and closed his eyes. Although he had spent hours in a dark car, he was exhausted. He had fallen asleep early in the ride, and when he woke up, Damien was snoring next to him and Joey's head was leaning against his. Simon had to softly poke Joey long enough to wake the taller boy up so that Simon could have the movement of his head back.

Simon allowed a small smile to grace his features as he remembered the couple moments where he had just imagined waking up like that every day. He would probably never wake up with his cheek pressed against Joey, and Joey's arm wrapped around his waist ever again. But a boy was allowed to dream right?

Nobody else was in the room, and he trusted the people in the house. No paparazzi could get in here, which is why his grandparents had given the house to his Mum and Dad when they got married. So Simon was safe to relax and breathe for a bit.

* * *

Julian sighed as he walked into the master bedroom. Every time he walked into this room, he felt his heart break a little.

Julian had been an L.A. boy his entire life. Some people couldn't stand the smog of the city, but Julian thrived in that life. He had grown up with cameras clicking in the background. He was used to turning on the television and happening across an interview that he had filmed with Ellen several days earlier. It just happened. So he smiled at the flashes and laughed at the interviews.

Laura had grown up in southern France. Her parents had owned a bakery. When she moved here to work in pictures, she hadn't understood the media. Admittedly, Julian had loved her disregard for the media when she would drag him out for dinner and make him forget about the paparazzi. But it meant that she liked to get away from his home city. Laura liked Newport, where the residents didn't mind having a family of celebrities living in their midst. In fact, the idea of a small tourist town where they could be normal was exactly what Laura had missed.

Julian had been confused at first as to how to react to that situation, but he learned to handle it as they lived there about three to four months out of the year since they moved in together.

When the family had flown back to L.A. for the last time, they had just left Newport. They were going for a film that Laura had been in. Julian and Simon had naturally attended as well.

By the end of the night, Laura had a bullet in her chest and Julian was left to raise Simon alone.

He had sold their other houses. He had moved locations in L.A.

But he kept this house. It was her, and it was his last chance to meet her. And it was his only chance to really explain her to Simon.

* * *

Mike woke up because of the air. It had a certain tingle in it, the kind that creeps along your skin, leaving goose bumps in its place, until it reaches the nape of your neck, where it pools and makes your entire spine quiver with excitement.

And that could only mean it was one morning.

Christmas Morning.

Mike let the excitement seep into his skin a little more before throwing the downy covers off. His feet hit the cold floor and in a matter of seconds, his long legs had taken him the length of his bedroom. Mike flung the wooden door open, his gaze landing on Madison as she opened her door.

On Mike's left, Mitch was opening his door, while Michelle doing the exact same motion across from Mitch.

All four children exchanged glances, before shutting their doors as quietly as possible and bolting towards the living room.

The Christmas tree was at least thirteen feet tall and covered in every imaginable shiny, sparkly, distracting decoration available, legally or otherwise. The large windows and slanted skylights helped to further illuminate the room as the sun began to sneak its way over the New York City skyline. The result was the white lights blaring their way through the orange and pink glow of the sun.

All of this illuminated the numerous packages the crowded the room, making it difficult to move around. All four blonds turned and headed into two hallways.

Mike and Madison rushed down the one of the left while Mitch and Michelle sauntered down the hallway on the right.

Eventually, they reached two different doors.

Evan and Gene woke up as the door creaked. Evan sent a couple bullets flying from his Nerf gun before the twins managed to launch themselves onto their parents bed while explaining that it was _Christmas_ and it _seven o'clock in the morning_ and so _why weren't they out of bed_?

Ethan and Jennifer were suffering a similar fate, although Michelle had come equipped with a foghorn in order to provide incentive for her parents to wake up. Mitch launched a pillow in their direction before grabbing his twin's hand and pulling her out the door.

A minute later, Evan, Ethan, Gene, and Jennifer tumbled into their living room. The blond parents sat down on the bright couch and looked around them. By now, excitement was leaking into their eyes too and the entire family kept exchanging glances. Each child set a present at his/her parents' feet, and the opening began.

By the end of it Mike, Mitch, Madison, and Michelle were all staring in shock in front of them. Each had signed, first edition copies of all seven Harry Potter novels. Michelle was curled up in the corner, already reading her way through the books. Mike was jumping around, a large grin covering his face. Madison had placed hers in order and was grinning and dancing in her seat. Mitch was staring, no reaction, at the books with a feeling of overwhelming excitement. Finally, he reached forward and hugged all seven.

"That is not all." Gene said.

The children took a moment to drag their minds away from their stories.

"We have one more thing for you." Jennifer added.

"So here, take these." Evan held out four keys, two in each hand. Each kid grabbed one before staring in wonder at it. The golden keys were attached to Gryffindor keychains.

"They are to these." Ethan clicked a button and a hologram of four planes showed up.

* * *

Cian sat up in bed as he heard a couple knocks on the door. "'Ello?" He mumbled before he saw his Dad's face. Cian fell back against the plethora of pillows. "It is seven in the morning. What do you want?"

"We need to open presents!"

"Can't it wait an hour?"

"No."

The next second and his Papa's head poked around the door. He smiled apologetically, even though he was already dressed in what looked like the newest Calvin Klein and therefore just as excited to be up. "We can let you sleep if you really want to…"

Cian sighed and shoved his covers off, slipping his feet into a pair of fuzzy slippers. "Nope, lets go open presents."

As Cian shuffled into the living room his feet hit a box. He glanced up. It was like every other Christmas. The living room was literally covered in gifts that were wrapped with extravagant bows that Uncle Kurt must have helped with. It would be hours before Cian would even reach the Christmas tree.

Cian turned to face his fathers and smiled. "Wanna help? Your presents make up that half over there."

Their grins were wide enough to make Cian worry they would get permanently stuck on their faces.

* * *

Winston wandered out of his room and glanced around. The light was just over the edges of the skyscrapers. Which meant that he was up way earlier than normal. After a second, Winston heard voices from the kitchen and he began to walk over that way.

As he walked in he saw that Brevyn, Pierce, and his Dads were up. Which meant Winston was the last one. Their noise probably contributed to his waking up early.

He found himself staring at the elaborate breakfast Pierce had made. It involved pancakes, French toast, lots of fruit, three different syrups and sauces, and several pounds of butter and powdered sugar.

"Oh good, now we can begin. I can't stare at it any longer." Winston heard his Da say. Winston's Dad laughed from across the table.

"Hold on dear, Winston has to sit down. And don't get syrup in your hair, either of you."

They looked at each other and grinned. Neither had gel in their hair, and so the curls were going every which way. "We don't want a repeat of last year." His Da said and Winston nodded in agreement. It had taken six showers to fix that particular issue. Even after Uncle Reed brought over special shampoo.

"Merry Christmas." Winston smiled as he sat down next to Brevyn.

Everyone else grinned and repeated their well wishes before beginning on breakfast. Winston carefully took a spoonful of fruits and began to slowly munch on them.

* * *

Simon walked downstairs carefully, his socks slippery against the polished marble floors. The airy hour was cold in the winter as the heater failed to bring it up to the occupants preferred temperature. Simon honestly had no idea why they were in their Newport house, primarily used during the summer except on rare occasions like this, in the dead of a New England winter.

Simon was an L.A. and California boy through and through. Warm weather, beaches, and preferably lacking a shirt was how he enjoyed to spend his days. Not walking around his house in three layers, socks, and trying to avoid all the hidden memories it dragged out of his mind. Every time he turned a corner Simon had to brace his mind against a new memory of him running down the hall and being lifted into the air by her. He imagined her dark hair braided so it slid over her shoulder, and bright eyes shining in the summer sun. He imagined the long dresses she preferred and her never painted nails. The way she would smile and he would feel proud to put that grin on her face, even if all he did was run over and smile first.

He imagined her with red cheeks sitting outside on the terrace wrapped in his Dad's arms. He imagined the way she would smile when his Dad kissed the top of her head as Simon tried to navigate his way around the furniture and then curl up with them.

He imagined the way the three of them would relax because nobody could get to them here. They could not look perfect and they could try to make pancakes and fail so badly that the cook ushered them out of the kitchen with a laugh. They could sit outside and watch the sun set over the sea as a few last straggling people made their way along the cliff walk behind the stone fence.

In all likely hood, these memories were made up. Simon had been one when she was shot. He probably couldn't remember a thing about her. What he was really remembering was his wishes of what could have happened. It was almost worse than if he really remembered her.

And here, they followed him everywhere. In her favorite house he couldn't do a thing without remembering a fantasy that had, or still did, fill his mind.

Yes, Simon was an L.A. boy he decided. Newport wasn't his style.

Never the less, he did like the kitchen because of it's large heavy duty counters. After a moment, two slices of bread were in the toaster and Simon had flicked on the television. The news anchors greeted everyone a Merry Christmas and began to talk about the day. Simon quietly walked up the stairs and into a small used-to-be-servants hall, which then led him into the morning room through a secret door. The fireplace had three stuffed stockings hanging to the edge of the mantle. Brightly wrapped gifts littered the floor around the large tree, which must have been decorated before they arrived.

The gifts far outnumber what was an acceptable ratio of gifts per person in the house. Seven people and what Simon guessed had to be seventy to a hundred wrapped presents.

Simon let the door swing shut as he began walking back towards the kitchen. Food would always be his first priority. As he reached the kitchen two more people were already occupying the space.

Damien was making three large mugs of coffee. One stayed black. One had some skim milk put in it. One had sugar and crème dumped into it until it was nearly overflowing.

Simon took the mug that least resembled coffee and looked more like a sweet with a smile while Joey's fingers carefully wrapped around the cup with skim. Damien took the black one and set about drinking his faster than the other two. By the time they started on theirs, he was already on his second cup.

Simon took out the pieces of toast he had put it, and stuck some more bread into the toaster to be crucified.

"Merry Christmas guys." Joey finally managed as the caffeine began to enter his blood stream.

"Merry Christmas." Simon agreed.

"Merry Christmas S and Jo." Damien finished.

* * *

Within another hour, the Dads were up and joining their sons. More coffee was brewed until there was enough to satisfy the six Stuarts in the room. Slowly, they all came to life, their eyes brightening as they woke up.

James observed the transformation as he sat at the table with a dainty cup of English Breakfast tea. One eyebrow was raised as he watched.

Logan was leaning against the counter, coffee cup in his left hand. It had a little bit of milk in it. Derek was on his third cup of black coffee as he monitored the conversation. Julian was slowly sipping his cream-and-sugar-with-a-little-coffee while listening as Logan began to defend a point. The actor's normally bright face looked tired. It nearly reminded James of the second year after Laura died.

Before completely boarding that train of thought, James examined his son. Joey was also leaning against the counter, coffee cup in hand as he talked to Damien and Simon. Damien was leaning back on one leg, gaze shifting between the other two. Simon was barely paying attention as he tried to drown himself in his coffee.

James was struck by the remarkable similarities between the corresponding families. He smiled slightly before deciding to break up the separate conversations. "Okay, someone explain to me what is so excellent about coffee." It was an honest question, tea tasted better so why-

"Caffeine." Derek said.

"It smells perfect." Julian explained.

"Inherited addiction." Joey said.

"Learned behavior." Simon tagged on.

"Habit." Logan answered.

"I'm hopelessly addicted." Damien explained.

James nodded. They took that a little to seriously. James decided it must be something about Dalton that caused them to love that drink more than that air they breathed.

* * *

Winston woke up at 12:00 PM to his cell phone ringing. It took a moment for him to remember how to move his hand, and when he did he noticed that he was getting a call from the Weasley Twins.

"Hello?"

"Hello Harry."

"Morning Gred and Forge. Now why are you calling me at this ungodly hour?"

"Because family time is officially over. Now, for the New Years party… do you want girls?"

"Is that an actual question?"

"Okay. See you then Harry Freakin Potter."

Winston hung up and went back to sleep without ever knowing if he had spoken to Fred or George.

* * *

"He says go for it." Mike said as he shoved his phone into his pocket. Madison smiled and picked up her phone. Michelle did the same and within moments they were also talking to girls, and inviting them to Dalton's New Years Party.

"Yes, _that_ one." Michelle said.

"We will make sure you are allowed in, don't worry about it." Madison said to someone else.

The girls were on the same couch. Each had their slender legs tossed over the armrests as they leaned back against each other for support. Then they both said, "We can come pick you up, don't worry about it."

"New Years in New York."

* * *

He hung up the phone. New Years would be fun. Now all he had to do was wait.

And in the mean time...

He glanced at the knife next to him. He had managed to avoid it all of the break. At at least now he was alone. He picked it up, fingers curving around the familiar handle. Merry Christmas and a happy New Year.

* * *

Alright. On that note, I will leave and go start writing the next chapter which will (if all goes according to plan) have the actual New Years Party in it! Which means that more than a couple of boys will run into some issues.

Thanks for reading.

Love,

PB Anderson.


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